


The Angel Against Revolution

by JustSkulkingAround



Series: The Adventures Of Russia [3]
Category: CountryHumans, Geography (Anthropomorphic)
Genre: Gen, Horror, M/M, More Fighting, Russia America Kentucky California and Arizona are the main group, Russia becomes a low-key dad, Sequel, Some states you don't see often, and monsters, family stuff, hell yeah, lots of gay fluff, monster fighting, relationship fluff here too, springs off where Puppets ended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 90,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28161924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSkulkingAround/pseuds/JustSkulkingAround
Summary: Still recovering from a near-deadly magic display, Russia narrowly tries to escape the overpowering watch of the Revolution, a strange organization with unknown government ties tracking down any personifications they can.With confusing feelings, terrifying encounters, and a gaggle of children in tow, Russia must navigate his way back to safety, and one thing is for sure, he will not be leaving anyone behind.
Relationships: Russia/United States (Anthropomorphic)
Series: The Adventures Of Russia [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033056
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	1. Cleaning Up

'Hospital gowns,' Russia decides, 'are not comfortable.'

'America's lap was warm and comfortable though.'

The sun had begun to set, and the surroundings begin to grow dark. America had grown quiet, and Russia assumes he's asleep. But as the car grows dark, Russia notices something a little strange. A light blue glow surrounds him. It's faint. Very faint. He hadn't even noticed it until the sky was full of stars. Russia tries to ignore the fear building in his chest at the appearance of the moon. The glow is gentle, calming, and it makes his skin feel tingly and warm, as warm as it could feel. 

'What is that? It looks like America's magic. But America's asleep.'

Russia raises his arm as high as he could, only a few centimeters, and drops it. No one looks. He tries again, and Texas spins around, with an anxious look he tries to hide lighting up his face.

Russia meets his eyes, and Texas relaxes. Then Texas scans over him with a strange look.

"What in tarnation? New Mex, look at Russia," Texas says, grabbing New Mexico by the shoulder. 

"What?" New Mexico asks, turning around in her seat.

"Oh," New Mexico mutters, "Dad's magic?"

"I don't know. Could you turn Dixie off of mute?" Texas says, announcing the question to the front seat.

"Sure thing TexMex," Arizona replies.

"Don't call me that," Texas mutters.

"Hey, Dix. I got a question," Texas announces.

There is a short pause before anyone received an answer.

"Does it got something to do with them weird dogs in the trees?"

"No, it's about- wait, DOGS?!"

"Yeah. Listen, y'all shouldn't look, they ain't right." 

Texas begins looking around, but Finland moves to block the window. Texas scowls but returns his gaze to Russia. His face softens seeing his father.

"Can Dad use his magic when he's sleepin'?" Texas asks, his eyes focused on Russia's arm. 

"Wait, what do mean?" Canada's voice filters through the phone.

"Him and Russia are glowin'. Kinda. It just looks like Dad's using some healing magic or something," Texas explains.

"Dad still has magic to use?" Massachusetts asks.

"Yeah. I'm thinkin' it's cuz Dad is finally getting some sleep," New Mexico comments.

"He's sleeping?" Dixie asks incredulously.

"He's been sleeping for the past several hours. Why?" Finland responds, sounding confused. 

"Dad just doesn't sleep much," Kansas explains.

Finland hums but doesn't say anything else.

"Well, that's good. Really good," Canada says, "he'll probably be feeling better as soon as he wakes up."

"What do you mean? How much does his healing magic help? I know countries heal faster than humans, and states," Finland adds as an afterthought, "but he was stabbed."

"He's stubborn," Dixie says, "he won't be able to lift anything, but he'll probably be up and moving around once he wakes up."

"He'll totally call the shower once we stop and get settled in," Arizona says with a laugh.

Dixie chuckles.

"Y'all think he'll insist that he's the once to clean up Russia too?" Texas asks.

Russia feels his mind freeze and embarrassment halts his thoughts.

'I... what?!? Clean...? Like a CHILD?!'

He feels the remains of his pride shrivel and closes his eyes. He can't force himself to meet anyone's eyes. If he could manage, he would have covered his face. He had already felt so flustered needing help with the bathroom, and now.

'This is so much worse.'

But he knew he couldn't really decline, as he couldn't speak. And he tried to slow down his heart rate.

'America doesn't know,' he thinks, trying to defend the sliver of dignity he could keep, 'he doesn't have to know.'

"What? What's going on?" America slurs with sleep.

'Oh no.'

"Oh! Hi Dad," Texas says with a nervous undertone, "how're you feeling?"

"Hey, Tiktac. I'm okay. How're you doing? You sound a little off."

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine. I'm just... nervous. Ya know, waiting to get attacked an all."

"Waiting to get attacked?!" New York shrieks.

"Yeah. It's what happened when we drove through the early morning when we first went through the mountains," Massachusetts explains, his voice sounds muffled through the speakers. 

"Colorado!" New York yells.

"On a side note," Arizona loudly interjects, "Dad, how is your back feeling?"

"It's feeling a lot better. Still kinda hurts, but I'll manage."

"Yay! Could you get yourself all washed up?"

"Of course."

"And-"

'Please don't say anything.'

"Could you get Russia washed up too? The rest of us don't feel comfortable doing it. You know, with him being your boyfriend and all."

"I... probably. I wouldn't be able to carry him in there, but if you guys could get him into the bathroom, I can take it from there."

'Oh no.' 

Russia knows that he hadn't been cleaned. Not really. He also remembers how Louisiana had New Mexico check for new infections where the IV was just a few hours ago.

'Was that even really a hospital?'

Thinking about it, he concludes that maybe it was, but the people there had other plans. And no training, if California was to be believed.

"Well, can all of you calm your t***s?"New Jersey asks.

"Well, I don't have those, soo," Kansas replies with a smirk.

"Shut the f*** up." New Jersey snaps. 

"Anyway, we're about to pull up to the hotel, but whatever the f*** is following us is still pretty close," Massachusetts remarks.

"Sippi and I will go out and protect all y'all while y'all are goin' inside," Alabama volunteers.

"Y'all are NOT goin' by yourselves," Dixie says.

"I'm goin' with 'em," Texas says.

"Me too," New Mexico volunteers.

The car fills with the calls of other states and a few provinces who agreed to go armed to walk the rest of the group inside.

Finland picks Russia up easily, and Russia just feels happy that he's still wrapped up in blankets. The states who weren't watching the shadows were throwing suitcases out of the backs of cars and trucks as fast as they could. 

Someone tosses Texas his hat, who hoots wildly with a grin.

"H*** YEAH!" Texas cheers.

Tennessee elbows him harshly, and Texas calms down slightly. Russia internally chuckles.

"You need to get cleaned up," Finland mutters. But her tone is less angered than Russia would expect. 

America hobbles into the hotel room's bathroom, and the water tuns on. Finland stands by the door while Kansas, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas settle into one of the beds and the pull-out couch.

Then America pokes his face out of the door.

"You can bring him in here," America says.

Russia closes his eyes in embarrassment.

"Just put him in. We aren't keeping the hospital gown anyway." America says.

Russia sees Finland shrug and he's put into the tub with his back leaned against the side and is blasted with water. He flinches, expecting it to be freezing. He sits there for a moment, his eyes scrunched shut, until his mind registers that the water was warm.

He relaxes slightly.

"Hey, you didn't expect me to blast you with cold water, right?" America asks with a chuckle.

Russia can't meet his eyes.

America sighs, then props Russia up a little further and unties the knot of the gown on the back of his neck.

"Hey, I get it. I honestly kept checking it cuz every time I looked, it looked like it would be freezing and I didn't wanna risk you getting cold," America says, gently removing the gown.

Russia feels exposed and very embarrassed. America seems to ignore the awkwardness of the situation that drowns Russia's rational thinking.

'The only time I wanted you to see me like this is when I could take your clothes off.'

These thoughts did NOT help his already flustered mental state.

America gets back to his feet and grabs some things off the counter.

Russia still couldn't believe that America had to wash him like a small child. He feels mortified but finds a silver lining in the fact that America was the only one doing this.

"Okay," America starts gently, "I'm gonna start at your legs and go up, okay?"

Russia tries his best to nod, and America takes the affirmation as permission to start. 

Most of the sensation in his legs is still numb, but America is still gentle. Gently washing out whatever had been ignored for the nurses, though the more Russia thinks about it, the more he doubts that any of those nurses were nurses at all.

He remembered how California had ranted on the car ride through the group call, loud enough to wake him up, about how she had to fix the butchered surgery with New York, and how America only survived because he was a country with how botched it was. How the 'surgical team' left two scalpels and a pair of scissors in the crooked sutures. How nothing was lined up or healing correctly. How Louisiana was the only thing that kept back any infection.

How they had fixed it. How it was a huge emergency and how New York and California had to hurriedly research and redo surgery in secret due to their, not unfounded, suspicions.

How the only reason they stayed was for Russia because they weren't sure if they could move him. How they rushed out so fast because they had wanted to leave for almost a week. 

He couldn't help but feel touched that they stayed for him, but his stomach churned at how badly it had gone for America.

'No one in that building had any medical training.'

The realization hits him like a brick to the chest.

Seething fury. The thoughts have him wishing he could move, if only to strangle the 'doctor's who did that and caused more suffering to both America and his children. He takes a deep breath and tries to return his focus to America.

'I can't lash out. Not now. Not at America.'

America had made it up to his chest. Russia hadn't even realized he had been lifted up or that the backs of his legs or lower back had been attended to. 

'That might be for the best.'

He knows, had it been possible, his face would have turned beet red.

America gets to his hands and holds them before rinsing them off.

Russia notices how the smell that had clung to him since the dead animals incident began to actually fade. The air was clearing.

"Okay Ruski," America mutters, "you gotta close your eyes, okay?"

Russia complies.

Russia finds himself relaxing, as much as he could, as America tenderly rubs away the grim from his face. It seems to take a few tries to get the dried slime off his cheek. 

Gentle, caloused hands begin scrubbing out his hair.

"It's been so long since I've seen your hair actually white," America says with an audible smile. Russia smiles back as well he can. 

Russia tries to pay all his attention to the gentle actions. He feels so fuzzy. So loved. So cared for. 

America dumps some water over his face, and he holds his breath.

He basks in the affection. Sure, this is still a situation that mortified him to no end, because of his lack of autonomy, but decides, since he can't do anything to stop it, to try to ignore it as best he could. 

Eventually, he's dried off and clothed, his hair fluffed up by the towel.

America giggles and kisses him on the forehead.

"Your hair looks so cute," America says between muffled laughter.

Finland carries him out and dumps him onto the bed. America closed the bathroom door behind them and cleans himself off before stumbling back out. With New Mexico and Kansas' help, America makes it onto the bed. 

America crawls across it and cuddles into Russia's side. Kansas laughs and helps adjust the blankets to be lying on top of them. America wraps himself up tightly and begins stroking Russia's clothes with an arm poking out of the bundle he had buried himself in.

'He's adorable.'

America shifts around and pulls Russia to his chest. America buries his face into Russia's hair. America breaths in and sighs. He nuzzles Russia's hair.

"It's nice, you know? You smell nice again," America mumbles into his hair. Russia feels a little flustered, but content.

"Y'all are sweet," Texas coos. Russia feels his heart swell at the implied approval. America hums, and falls asleep against Russia. 

"I'll keep watch," Finland volunteers. She sits in the uncomfortable hotel chair, facing the hotel door. Russia drifts off, feeling warm and loved.


	2. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suspicious governments.  
> What's going on?

Frantic pounding on the door startles Russia awake.

He sees Finland run to the door and yanks it open.

"WE NEED TO GO!" Rhode Island shouts into the room.

"What?" Finland says and America sits up, tired.

"What's going on darlin'?" America asks sleepily.

"They're finding us, Daddy. There are weird cars circling the parking lot," Missouri stammers, "and Nevada says that they left to get back up."

Finland starts shaking the others awake and America turns to Russia. 

"Can you sit up?" America asks.

Russia tries, but can't pull himself up. He shakes his head.

America grins happily.

"You can move your head!" America chirps.

"Okay, that's great," Texas says, "but we don't have much time. We gotta get going Pops."

America moves to stand, and Texas sighs annoyed.

"Come 'ere, I'll carry you. We have to hurry. Kandy, Ari, Mex-i, y'all got the luggage?"

"Yup, we're good," Kansas replies, gathering the bags.

Finland scoops Russia off the bed, and Texas pulls America onto his back.

Finland rushes down the stairs, and Russia lies stiffly in her arms. It was strange, being carried like a clunky box. There are several dozen other pairs of footsteps following them. Virginia bursts through the door, gun in hand, and she scans the dark horizon. The lights outside the side door had been smashed. They run through a near-pitch black parking lot, the crescent moon being the only light illuminating the cars.

Finland hurriedly drops Russia into the backseat, and America is dropped on top of him. America pushes himself up, and Russia looks up. The position Russia ends up in, under America, has his face on fire.

America meets his eyes and giggles.

"Yay, glad to know I didn't lose my magic," America teases.

America leans down and pecks Russia on the cheek. Russia feels his face grow even warmer. America lies back down on Russia's chest and drifts back off almost immediately. Someone jumps into the driver's seat and everyone else loudly scrambles into the car. Headlights and brake lights flicker on from all around, casting strange shadows against the car roof.

New Mexico pokes her head over the seat and sighs, shaking her head. She leans over the seat as Arizona slams on the gas. The car lurches forward, and New Mexico catches herself. She reaches over and pulls the middle seatbelt over the two, clicking it into place behind Russia.

"It's gonna be a bumpy ride," she mumbles before returning to her seat.

The car swerves. America stirs. Russia forces his arms up. It takes all his concentration to lift his arms. He lays his arms around America's back. America relaxes again.

Kansas' phone rings and someone connects it to the car speakers. 

"So, I called the President, and I think we're in deep s***." New York starts.

Shouts ring out from the speakers, and America turns his head away. 

"What did he say?" America mutters.

"What?" Kansas calls before turning back to the speaker.

"Dad asks 'what did he say?'" Kansas replies.

"He said something about how there's nothing to worry about. B******T!" New York screams in frustration.

"Anything else?" Virginia asks.

"The motherf***er implied that immortality wasn't just for us. I don't know what the f*** that's supposed to mean, but all I do know is that the gov is a bunch of backstabbing b****es," Massachusetts rants.

"That's not good. Not good at all," America mumbles into Russia's chest. 

"You can say that again," Texas mutters.

"What are we going to do?" Finland asks aloud, directing the question to no one in particular. 

"I don't know. I really don't know," Dixie says, "but for right now, we should keep moving. We can't risk them catching us."

"How did they know we were there?" Connecticut asks.

"I've got a hunch," California says, "they must have been following us since we left the hospital."

"Probably. Or they could be tracking us."

"What do you think they're using to track us?"

"I don't know."

"You think they bugged the cars?"

"Maybe."

The conversation continues, but Russia begins to zone out. Fatigue clouds his thoughts. He shifts slightly, moving his hands under America's shirt, feeling his back. He finds the bandage covering the stitches America has, and he pulls away. He hugs America around the waist, relishing the warmth.

America shivers.

"Your hands are freezing," he mumbles into Russia's chest.

Russia starts to pull away, but America shakes his head.

"No, you're fine," America says softly.

Russia slowly moves his hands back with great concentration. America sighs.

"God, I'm so glad that you're moving again."

'Me too.'

"I wonder when you're going to start talking again."

'Soon. I want to speak. I have a lot to ask about.'

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions. You want me to explain what's been going on?"

Russia nods. America traces small circles on his chest.

"Well, the symbol on the knife is the same as the one the cameras that Dixie found. We think they're calling themselves 'The Revolution'. We don't really know what they're doing or why, but there are several suspicious locations that just disappeared from public use. If you ask me, that's where they're building bases. I'm sure that there is more than just one place here."

America trails off and sighs.

"We're thinking that, with the organization and the uniforms, that The Revolution is some kind of army. Maybe a militia or something. We were under the impression that the government might be involved with how tight-lipped they've been. Now, with what my boss has said, I know that they're involved."

'Oh no. The American military? Is it involved?' that thought is terrifying for Russia.

"But they ain't telling me anything," America says, "not even through York."

America is interrupted by a shrill ring of a phone. Finland answers.

"FINLAND! Is that you?!" Sweden's voice rings out, and the rest of what he says sounds muffled.

Finland chuckles.

"Yes, it's really me. I'm okay."

Russia feels his heart sink and his breath gets stuck in his throat.

Finland continues her conversation, but Russia tunes it out.

'I want to talk to my family. To tell my father that I'm okay. To tell my siblings that I'm okay.'

"Russ, are you okay?" America asks.

Russia nods. His eyes burn, and he feels tears begin to build up in the corners. He wished he could just wipe them away.

'Why is this so hard?'

'I miss my family. They might not like me, but I miss them.'

He sinks into his own thought, and with a stop to switch driver and navigator, they continue through the dark.

Then the thoughts of being stuck on the run and the realization that he's stuck in a country he didn't live in, on the run from a group with government involvement, sink in. It feels real, and his mouth goes dry.

Then he registers America started shaking. He looks down and sees America breathing fast. America's panic soaks into the air around him. 

Russia tries to open his mouth to comfort him. To say something, anything. Not a sound came out.

He closes his mouth, feeling helpless. America begins to hyperventilate, and Russia can feel cold spots grow on his shirt.

'Tears'

America hugs Russia's torso tightly, trembling. Russia, through a trial of will, moves one of his hands up America's back. America whimpers.

Russia forces his sore, shaking fingers to trace small circles between America's shoulder blades. America buries his face into Russia's shoulder.

"I'm so scared," America mutters into Russia's neck, "I want to protect my kids. Now, I don't know if I can. What am I going to do?"

Russia tightens his grip.

"What am I going to do?" America whines in a quaking voice. 

'You're not alone. I'll help you. I'm here.'

"They're my kids, and now we're all being fucking hunted."

America begins to sob, hiccuping. America tries to muffle it, covering his mouth with his hand. Russia's heart clenches.

"Dad?" Texas calls from the front seat.

America quiets but doesn't say anything.

"We'll make it through," Texas says, "and we ain't asking you to take care of anything. while you're still hurt."

America hums quietly. Texas sighs.

"Just hang in there. We'll make it through, and I'll help you take care of whoever is behind this, I promise. And I'm sure Dixie and Russia will too," Texas says.

Then there is a heavy silence before Texas turns on the radio. He tunes it to some country music being broadcast nearby. The music has a static quality. Texas turns the volume down and quietly hums along.

The quiet background noise helped fill the void around him. 

America hugs Russia tightly.

'We will make it through. I'll make sure of it.'

America's breath is shaky, and Russia feels more tears land on his chest.

"I'm terrified that someone is going to get hurt, and I won't be able to stop it," America mutters into Russia's ear.

'It's not all on you.'

"God, this is all my fault."

'No, it's not. Why would you think that?'

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

'I'm here because I want to be.'

"And I can't do d*** near anything with this stupid stab wound. And I know someone is going to get hurt... and I can't protect any of them."

'They can protect themselves. You're going to make yourself sick with worry.'

America weeps into Russia's shoulder. Russia feels his heart crack. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Russia feels his heart shatter. These apologies continue, but what he's apologizing for, Russia doesn't know. 

He had never wanted to speak more. Words stick in his throat.

'It's okay,' he wanted to say.

'I'm here.'

'You're okay.'

'The states are okay.'

'We'll make it through.'

But he can't say a word. He tries, but all he can do is open his mouth. He closes his eyes and hugs America as tight as his arms can manage. 

"I'm so sorry," America mumbles.

'Don't be. This isn't your fault.'

"...sorry," America whispers. America slumps down on Russia's chest over his heart, and his shaking slows.

America drifts off, tear stains streaking his face. Russia feels the lump in his throat grow.

After a while in the quiet, listening to static-y music, Texas speaks up. 

"I hope you can help him," Texas says quietly, turning down the radio, "you... Russ, you weaseled your way into this family, and I think you've found your place alongside Dad... please, he's strong, but... he needs help. He doesn't like relying on us states for that, says he doesn't want to 'bother' us."

Texas sighs. "Sometimes, I wish he would," he mumbles.

"He worries us," New Mexico adds, "We love him more than anything, but when we try to help him, he pushes us away. Won't tell us nothing. And talking with Dixie and Nada, he ain't telling them anything either."

The states trail off. After a few moments, Texas turns the radio up again, a little louder than it had been before, and continues humming alone, driving into the night.

Russia looks back down at his chest.

'Let me help you. Please.'

America looks so relaxed there, but Russia feels his breath catch at the numerous tear trails that stain his face.

Russia looks away and stares out the window at the stars, looking for answers in the vast, dark skies.


	3. Close Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intuition- never ignore it.

The phone begins ringing again, and Russia jerks out of his thoughts.

'What is that?'

Then the ringing registers and Arizona answers, turning off the radio and connecting to the speaker with the phone.

"Hey, can everyone hear me?" California asks.

Texas gave affirmation, as did others from other cars.

"Okay, so, I think York-y and I figured out what happened. We're pretty sure some official is working as an informant and is tracking purchases from our cards."

"So renting hotel rooms is out of the question," Dixie comments.

"Unless we stock up on cash, yeah," California answers, "and I don't think we should be withdrawing anything right now though. I'm afraid they're right on our tail."

"Well, what should we do? I can't drive constantly," Texas says.

"And I can't sleep in a moving car," New Hamshire complains.

"How much longer can you guys drive?" Colorado asks.

"I can manage, but I'd rather get settled sooner than later," Texas replies.

Several other answers also come in, varying from "I'm fine" to "I'm about to pass out."

Colorado sighs.

"Dixie?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"The next road you can turn off onto, take it. It doesn't lead really anywhere, but the end shouldn't be visible from the main road."

"Hold up, how many cars are with us?" Utah asks.

There is a brief pause before Dixie answers, "11, the right number. Why?"

"I was just making sure," Utah replies.

Dixie sighs. 

"Don't be scaring me like that," Dixie mutters.

Then a few moments of quiet, the car slows, and it turns down onto a gravel road. Russia hears the stones kicking up onto the underside of the car. Looking out the window, he sees how the trees overtake the sky.

The road winds and rocks loudly clang against the underside of the car.

Finally, they pull over and the overhead light in the car flickers on. America groans.

"Is it safe to get out?" Texas asks after pulling the parking brake.

"Yeah. Nothing here," Massachusetts replies. 

"Come on, let's get out and find somewhere to sleep. If there ain't anywhere, we should just stay in the cars."

America gets up and stumbles out. Texas pulls Russia out in a fireman carry. Russia shivers at the winter air. He briefly sees the others begin to dig through the trunk and pull out blankets. The walk down the now narrowing path. 

The wind whips by and Russia's shivering gets a little worse. 

"Hey, can one of y'all toss a blanket on top of Russia here?" Texas asks.

Someone tucks a blanket around him and the wind feels less harsh.

"Why can't we just stay in the car?" Ontario asks. His siblings chime in with agreement.

"I got a very bad feeling about staying in the cars," Dixie replies begrudgingly.

"That is not a good reason," Quebec complains, her french accent making her nearly unintelligible.

Dixie stops and turns around.

"Please. Y'all have to trust me on this. We can't stay in the cars. We can't," Dixie says, a pleading look in his eyes.

The others look torn.

"Y'all, I think Dixie might be right 'bout this one," South Carolina says.

"Yeah. Let's just see if there's anything to stay in for the night. I ain't sleeping on the floor," Texas says, leaving the "again" unspoken.

There are a few more minutes of walking until they stumble upon an abandoned building. It looks like it used to be a homely one-story cabin. Now, both front windows are broken, and one is boarded up. It looks abandoned, but not unstable. The logs making up the outside walls are thick and dark.

"Hey Coco, wanna help me and New Mex search to make sure there's no one already here?" Texas asks.

Colorado nods and a group of four states walk in, guns out, and clear the house. It takes only a few moments for them to reappear and wave everyone inside. Russia looks around and sees that the cabin only has one room and a curtain that used to be used to divide the space is ripped, and the entire interior is covered in pieces of discarded items.

"Who's keeping watch?" Dixie asks.

"I will," Connecticut volunteers.

A few other states volunteer, and Texas lays Russia down on one of the blankets that had been put on the ground, his back against the wall. America snuggles up next to him, laying in his lap. Once America lies down, the states follow. Before he knew it, Russia finds himself surrounded by a huge group of people shuffling around. A bit of complaining rang out, but it quiets quickly. Surrounded by people, and America tucked under his arm, Russia feels warm.

The younger children try their best to push their way to the center of the group to America. When America was covered, some of them even took places against Russia. 

Russia didn't know what to do. He knew there wasn't much to do, with his limited movement, but being surrounded like this, made him feel shielded, almost protected. Although he wanted to be the one doing the protecting, having all these people who seemed to trust him, surrounding him.

He felt less exposed.

Unfortunately, this does not last.

Russia doesn't remember when he'd drifted off, but he woke up to the sound of a muffled walkie talkie and shuffling outside the building.

Even if he could move, he lays frozen in terror.

He stares around and sees that the people who were on watch had drifted off against one of the walls, except for Dixie. Dixie stares up with wide eyes at the window behind Russia's head, in his hands is a shotgun. Dixie meets Russia's eyes and brings a finger to his lips as if to shush him.

"What are we even looking for?" a voice says.

"The people who were in those cars," a second voice replies, a deeper tone than the first.

'Who is that?'

"But how do we even know they're here?"

"This is the direction they left too."

'Oh no. What are they doing here? Are they some of the soldiers that were chasing us? They have to be.'

Russia tries to keep his breathing as calm as he can manage. In through the nose and out through the mouth. He had to keep quiet. He had to.

"Well, what cars were they supposed to be driving anyway?"

"..."

"You're no help."

"Well, the cars are empty. I opened 'em up and checked. You think anyone's in here?"

"Nah. Listen, I'm f***ing freezing, and I don't want to be walking around here any longer than I gotta be. Besides, it's almost dawn and the cars are cold. We'll just tell 'em we found a few cars from an old wreck. I am not going in there."

"We have to investigate. We can't just go back without looking."

'Please don't. Please don't,' Russia mentally begs.

"Oh, but why? It looks empty anyway and I don't want to run into any rattlesnakes."

There is a long sigh.

"Fine, we'll go back to the patrol car. But we are keeping watch."

"Yes."

The footsteps lead away, and the crackling leads away from the cabin's wall. Russia holds his breath until he hears a nearby car roar to life.

"Wha-" America starts, rubbing his face.

Dixie shushed him harshly. America falls silent and looks up to Russia.

"What's going on?" he mouths.

Russia shakes his head. When America begins to sit up, Russia sloppily puts his arm on America's back, trying to pull him down. America relents, giving Russia a confused and panicked look. 

'Please, don't say anything. Please. They're too close. Please stay quiet. Please.'

America stares into his eyes.

America looks away and closes his mouth, still looking confused, but he puts his head back down into Russia's lap. 

The car speeds around the area, and Russia can still almost make out some of the conversations the soldiers were having around the area as they would occasionally get out and continue to stray closer and closer to the cabin. Russia feels paralyzed, and the look on Dixie's face makes Russia believe that he felt the same. 

America still looks confused but doesn't argue, but instead of speaking, he just stares around, confused by the sounds around them. Then, the soldiers' conversations became intelligible again.

"Boss is not gonna be happy," the deeper voice says.

"And? I told you, I was looking through those windows and didn't see anybody."

"We should still check before we go."

Dixie clutches the gun tighter.

"Well, I don't hear anything. And besides, no one tried to run. Face it, no one is here."

"Then, what's with the cars?"

"They were cold when we got here. And no one was sleeping in them. Come on, let's get back to Lambda. Our shift is almost over anyway."

"I'm still gonna look."

Then he hears them walk around the house. America hurriedly sits up and pulls Russia down on top of him, curling around his head. America used his back to muffle the sound. America flinches after hitting the ground but doesn't make a sound.

Russia could have sworn he felt someone staring right at him. 

'Please, no. No. NO. Please don't see us. Please.'

He could feel someone staring a hole into his side.

He bits his lip and tries to stay as still as he could. He hopes, prays that no one saw his subtle shivering. 

There are a few moments of silence before the footsteps continue.

"Looks like it might be a couple of druggy squatters. Guess you were right."

"I told you!"

"Let's head back to base. Maybe they turned around and went the other way."

"That's what I've been saying!"

The footsteps trail away. The car started back up. He heard both doors open and both people get in, talking about something he hadn't listened to.

They drove off. Once the engine was out of earshot, America whines.

"America," he tries to say. His voice doesn't cooperate, and his mouth feels full of cotton.

America hisses in pain.

"I think I may have ripped the stitches or something," America stammers out quietly, his voice soaked in pain.

Dixie slowly pokes his head up, peeking out the windows. Once he does, he quickly makes his way over to America. the states silently shuffle out of his way.

"Why did you do that?!" Dixie hisses.

"He would've seen Russia," America defends, shaking.

Then Dixie gasps. "Oh my god, there's blood everywhere," he mutters.

Texas pulls Russia away and Massachusetts hurries forward. Virginia and Delaware herd the other states away to give California and New York enough space to work.

"Dad. You need to be more f***ing careful," Massachusetts hisses, summoning a dull green light.

New York and California quickly approach and Russia watches on, helpless as America tries not to thrash about while California and New York examine his wound. New York curses under his breath and Louisiana helps disinfect their hands and she sits nearby with Georgia, ready to step in if needed.

'What do we do now?'


	4. Soft Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff for y'all.
> 
> Also, "English", 'thoughts', and "*Russian*"

"You f***ing idiot. Why the f*** did you do that, you f***ing dumba**? F***!" New York mumbles under his breath, carefully examining America's wound.

"Hey, calm down York-y. I think he healed enough for us to just bandage this," California says quietly, putting a hand on New York's shoulder.

"I'll get them," Dixie volunteers.

"I'm going with you," Texas says. Texas leaves Russia against the nearby wall. New Mexico and Texas follow Dixie out, staying close to the ground. They slowly open the door and close it behind them.

'Is he gonna be okay?'

Russia waits for Dixie to get back.

'Are they okay?'

'Are there more soldiers we didn't see?'

'I hope they get back okay.'

America shakes against the floor, and Russia feels helpless. Canada slides over and pulls America into his lap. Canada strokes America's hair to comfort him, and Russia wished he could help. Help do anything. He opens his mouth to try to speak.

'It's going to be okay.'

"Is 'oin to ba ah-kay," Russia manages to mumble out.

'That was not what I was trying to say,' he thinks, frustrated.

"Russ?" America asks. America tries to turn to look at him but cries out in pain and recoils. His hands muffle his scream, and America just continues shaking in Canada's lap.

"Hey, you're gonna be okay. You're strong, eh?" Canada mutters in a comforting tone, "just stay awake."

Russia looks around at the kids around the room. The states and Philippines looked like they were about to cry, most of them stare with horror clear in their eyes. The provinces watch, uncomfortable and worried. Finland keeps watch, listening out the windows in case someone (or something)approaches them.

Russia hears footsteps approaching the cabin door. His breath stops. The door creeks open slightly, and Dixie skulks in. The states follow on his heels. Russia lets out the breath he had held. Dixie holds the gun, aiming it out the door, over Texas's and New Mexico's heads, dropping it only once the door was closed. Texas and New Mexico sheath their weapons and bring the first-aid supplies they had retrieved over to New York and California.

The two got to work, tightly wrapping America's back. Canada helps hold America upright.

The inside of the cabin slowly lights up, and the sunlight peaks through the window above Russia's head, casting spotty shadows along the walls of the cabin, lighting up the dirty floors and destroyed furniture in dotted, light yellow light. The colors are faded, and the interior looks much older than it had at first. He also spots some vials on the counter, and a few used syringes around.

His heart drops out of his chest, and his breathing stutters to a brief stop.

'Was anyone pricked?'

But he couldn't ask. He moves his arm to get someone's attention. His movements weren't as coordinated as he would have likes and any movement made him sore, but he decided this is more important.

He gently pushes the arm of a nearby state.

"What's up?" Indiana asks.

Russia slowly raises his shaky arm, and with a half-closed fist, he tries his best to gesture to the countertop.

"What?"

Russia waves more frantically. Indiana gets up and walks over to the countertop, looking confused. Then, a panicked look passes over his face.

"Oh. Uhh, Dixie?" Indiana calls, a shaky tone to his voice.

"What?" Dixie snaps, and then he sighs, "sorry kiddo. Didn't mean to snap at you. What's going on?"

"I found what made them think we were just a bunch of druggys," Indiana says, pointing to the counters against the back wall. Whether it would be by luck or a pure choice of fate, they had avoided this wall, deciding to stay closer to the door.

Dixie goes quiet before standing and walking over. Once he sees what Indiana is talking about, he stiffens. After a moment, he walks into the middle of the room and clears his throat.

"Hey. All of y'all, this is very important," Dixie says, looking around at the occupants of the room.

Everyone looks at him, a little startled.

"I need to know if anyone finds anything on or near where you were sleeping."

The kids nod and begin searching around, and lucky, they came up short. They even throw up the blankets and help Russia move to check behind him, but they find nothing other than some broken glass under the blankets. Even still, the pieces are small, laying flat under a think quilt and the quilt doesn't have any visible rips. 

Dixie looks tense and anxious.

"Was anyone pricked by anything? At all? Come 'ere, all of you. I'm checking y'all for any injuries. No exceptions," Dixie announces to the group, forcing them to line up, state, province, or country, to check for any sign of needle marks. Once Georgia was checked, she helps make sure none of them had a chance of being exposed to anything on the syringes. 

Once everyone is checked and cleared, Dixie lets out a deep sigh of relief, and his knees visibly shake. Dixie stumbles for a second before regaining his balance. There is a moment of silence before America begins talking. 

"Do you think we're safe to leave?" America asks, looking toward Finland, "I want to get out of here." 

Finland nods.

"It looks clear. We should be safe. I'll scout around first, but we should be okay to leave." Finland confirms.

"Let's get out of here," Philippines insists. The others agree.

Finland walks around with Philippines to search for anyone who might be watching them. They come back a few minutes later and wave the others forward. Russia struggles for a minute while the others rush around, and manages to get to his feet. His legs shake violently, and he focuses all his attention to stay upright.

'I won't be able to walk, but this is better.'

Just as his legs are about to give out, Missouri and Rhode Island rush over. They grab his arms and help him walk to the car.

Russia tries to walk forward, but his legs feel as though they're made of Jello. Had it not been for the states, he knew he would've face-planted.

The numbness had faded, but his fingers and toes still tingle uncomfortably. He's helped into the car, and he sits upright against the window on the passenger side of the car. America is helped into the car next to him and buckled into the middle seat. Georgia joins them, sitting on the driver's side seat against the window.

When asked why, she shrugged.

"I don't want to be double buckling for the whole drive. Besides, Lulu can handle herself fine," she explained.

When Texas gets into the car after helping load the trunks with supplies, Kansas starts the car, but they don't go anywhere.

"Alrighty," Kansas says, looking over the seat at America, "where are we headed?"

"Somewhere we can hide and hunker down for a while," America replies. Texas hums in thought.

"Peaches, you got any ideas?" Texas asks.

"Y'all think that there are any other abandoned buildings or somethin'? We might be able to stay there," Georgia answers.

"As long as we can get there without anyone following us there, we might be able to have a base of our own," Finland says, thinking aloud.

Georgia shrugs. 

"I don' know. I'm wonderin' what kinda stuff would be around here that we could hide out in."

Texas hums.

"Hey, I got an idea, why don't we call up the group and ask?" Arizona suggests. 

"Yeah, go ahead," Kansas replies.

Russia's attention is taken away from the conversation by America leaning against him, head on his shoulder. He looks down and sees America just looking around, occasionally replying to the others discussing their next game plan.

Russia finds himself just admiring him. 

'His face is pretty.'

Once Russia realized what he's doing, he zones back into the conversation.

"Idaho says there might be some places we could use in his state. There is also some tree cover to help," Canada says.

"We won't make it to Idaho on what's in the tank," Manitoba comments.

"Well, we'll have to go back and withdraw as much cash as we can before we take off. If they're tracking us by card purchases, cash might be the best option for now," America says.

"We should withdraw cash somewhere close to Denver," Finland suggests.

"Why?" Texas asks.

"It would get them off our trail. They'll think we are going to the city, and we can drive off in the opposite direction," Finland explains.

Russia doesn't like Finland too much but had to admit his respect for her idea.

Russia rides for hours back into Denver, and Dixie, New York, and many of the other states begin to withdraw as much money as the ATM would allow. They stock each of the cars with a few thousand dollars under the front passenger seat. The cars fill up their gas tanks, and they take off toward Idaho.

When the sun is high in the sky, they stop for a quick break, walking around, bathroom break, and just stretch out for a few minutes. With some help, Russia gets out, walks around briefly, and uses the bathroom before returning to the car. The others stock-up on snacks and bottles of water to have in the cars. Most of the supplies get tucked under the seats. America returns soon after as the states walk around and mingle for a few minutes, waiting for everyone to get back.

'He looks better,' Russia notes. He wasn't standing at his full height, but he could walk by himself. America made his way to his seat and pulls something out of the bag he held.

"I got you something," he mumbles, looking a little flush.

'Are you okay?'

"*What is it?*" Russia tries to ask. The syllables come out as a jumbled mess, completely unintelligible.

America giggles before handing him a little plush animal. Russia tries to take it but drops it due to his loose grip. 

His cheeks grow warm. 

America smiles before he carefully leans over to pick it up. He puts it into Russia's hands and wraps Russia's hands in his own.

"See, look. It's an arctic fox. I remember you talking about them at one of the World Meetings, so when I saw it, it reminded me of you," America admits, his face a little pink.

Russia feels his heart swell.

'I love it.'

"*Thank you,*" Russia tries to say. 

"You're welcome," America says through giggles.

America releases his hands, and Russia holds the doll close to his chest.

Then Dixie knocks on the window and opens the door.

"Hey Ruski, we found something of yours in the back of Bama's truck. Thought you would be interested," Dixie says, lifting his arm.

'My hat! I thought I would never see it again.'

Russia smiles, disbelieving.

Dixie grins and hands America the hat before closing the door. America smiles and puts it on Russia's head, partially covering his face.

Russia feels laughter bubble up from his chest, and he doesn't resist. 

It sounds quiet, muffled almost. His throat feels funny.

America looks at him with a brilliant grin and embraces him. Russia tries to reciprocate. The best he could do is a loose hug in return.

America pulls back with a wide smile and misty eyes.

"I'm so glad you're getting better," America mumbles, holding Russia's hands to his chest.

Their alone time ends soon after, as everyone else gets into the cars. Georgia walks Louisiana to her car and then walks to Kansas's car with Texas and New Mexico.

"To Idaho, here we come!" Arizona cheers, starting the car as soon as the doors closed, and they speed off down the road, the sun hanging high in the sky, watching them as they rush up to somewhere they could hide.


	5. Screams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roar

Russia grows frustrated, staring angrily at the small fox in his lap.

'I can't speak. I can't walk. I can't even hold a doll by myself.'

Nothing he tries to say comes out right. He tries to ask questions, tries to tell America how much he likes the doll, tries to say anything at all. It all comes out as gibberish. Unfortunately for his temper, he has nothing else to do. Everyone had shut down their phones before leaving the city and had gotten radios before leaving Colorado to communicate. 

He tries to work out his mouth as if to convince it to cooperate. Open. Close. Open. Close. Pop music plays in the background from the radio, just loud enough for Russia to whisper under it without feeling like everyone had heard his garbled speech.

Russia tries his best to get his tongue and mouth to make any understandable sounds.

"America," he tries. 

'It still doesn't sound right.'

'It never sounds right.'

He clenches his fists as tight as he could, only to realize that his fists can't even fully close. He made a sort of growling in the back of his throat.

"Russ, are you doing okay?"

Russia shakes his head and blinks back the tears gathering in his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

'I can't even tell you!'

Russia averts his eyes back to the fox doll.

"Hey, look at me," America says. 

Russia begrudgingly looks up, and America looks worried. 

"What about this, I'll ask yes or no questions and I'll try to figure out what it is, okay? Just nod or shake your head. Sound good?"

Russia reluctantly nods. America gives him a small smile.

"Okay, so, are your fingers bothering you?"

'Yes'

"Are they painful?"

'No'

"Is it because they're hard to use?"

'Yes'

"Is that it?"

'No'

America hums in thought before turning back.

"Are you upset because I couldn't understand you?"

'Yes. No one can.'

"Well, do you remember last time this happened?"

'Yes.'

"Do you remember how long it took to start talking again?"

'No.'

"I know this sucks for you, but you are getting better. You were walking around and can move your fingers," America says optimistically. Russia looks away, frustration lodged in his throat. America sighs.

"Are you this upset because you can't do things by yourself?"

Russia closes his eyes. He doesn't want to admit it. He feels embarrassed and helpless. Ultimately, he doesn't answer. 

"Is this because you don't want to ask for help?"

Russia nods, feeling his cheeks burn. America sighs. Russia forcefully stares out the window, watching the hills roll by. 

America tenderly grasps Russia's face and turns Russia's head to face him. Russia doesn't resist.

"Hey, look at me. Please."

Russia looks up to meet his eyes.

"Don't be embarrassed. Remember, the only reason you're like this is because you saved us. You saved me, Russia. You know that?"

Russia nods. 

"I know this is bad. I know you're frustrated. And I'm sorry I can't help you. I know it's hard. But we're getting there," America whispers. 

Russia closes his eyes and leans into America's hands. America draws Russia's face forward and they press their foreheads together. Russia feels the frustration begin to fade. America gathers up his shaking hands and holds them together, infusing them with warmth.

Russia tries to relax, to let go of the anger that had gathered in his chest. It doesn't disappear completely, but it becomes more tolerable, less suffocating. 

"I'm here," America mutters, "and don't you forget it."

Russia laughs quietly, though he's not sure why. 

'It sounds more normal now,' Russia notes, almost happily.

America pulls away and smiles, and Russia smiles back. America guilds Russia's head down with his warm hands and Russia doesn't resist. America gently presses a kiss on his forehead, and Russia feels his cheeks grow hot, but finds that he doesn't mind. America guilds his head back and stares into his eyes.

"We will figure out what's going on, and we'll figure out how to stop it. Kick their a**es for even thinking about messing with us," America says, a determined look in his eyes, and a small smile on his face, "as soon as we're all healed up, we'll raise h***."

Russia nods in agreement.

"We'll be damned if we don't help you," Texas chimes in.

"He's right, you know," Georgia adds.

"I can help burn the place down," Arizona says, cackling.

America laughs, a proud spark in his eyes as he looks to the states.

"I'm sure you will. But right now, we need to focus on making sure that everyone is safe," America says. Texas agrees.

Russia decides to give his voice a break. He basks in the warmth from America, who holds his hands, gently playing with his fingers. 

Russia closes his eyes, leaning his head against the headrest.

Outside grows dark, and they swap drivers when they get gas. Once they get started again, Russia grabs a water bottle and tries to open it. He wrestles with it for a few minutes before handing it to America for help. He tries to ignore the embarrassment in the pit of his stomach. America opens it easily and hands it back to him. Russia feels grateful at the fact that America helped him without a second thought and that he hadn't made a big deal of it.

He feels a little embarrassed taking pride in the fact that he could feed himself, but the proud smile America gives him makes it worth it. 

'At least now I can survive on my own.'

Russia had begun to drift off, only for knocking against the window to wake him up. He sits up, confused. He looks around and sees Texas had taken over driving, and outside it pitch black save for what's illuminated by headlights.

They had to have been going pretty fast, with how the ground seems to move. 

'Then where did that knocking come from?'

"What is that?" he tries to ask. The words are almost recognizable now.

"Don't look," Finland says quietly. 

"What," Russia says, a demanding tone to his voice.

"What 'what'?" Texas asks.

"Nnn," Russia tries, putting all his effort into the word, "knock. Knocking."

'One word at a time works best.'

His speech still doesn't sound right, even to his own ears. His accent as heavy as it had been when he first started learning English. His tongue might be cooperating now, but only in his native pronunciations. It may sound weird, but at least now he could be understood.

"Knocking? You heard knocking?" Finland asks. Russia nods, pointing to his window.

"That's not good. At all," Texas mutters, grabbing for the radio.

"Hey, are any of y'all having anything weird happenin'?" Texas says into the radio, turning up the volume on its speaker.

"Now that y'all mention it, yeah. Somethin's been runnin' in the trees. Have any of y'all been seeing that?" Kentucky's voice rings out.

"Yeah, we saw it too, Tuck," Dixie says. His voice sounds tired.

"Same here," Michigan says, "but I don't think it's just one thing."

"Yeah, me and Mitch have been seeing all sorts of things. I think they're hiding from the lights," Idaho interjects.

"Delaware and I have been hearing stuff. We thought we heard something behind us," Oregon relays through the radio.

"Has Bama's car seen anything?" Arkansas asks.

"No, we haven't," Wisconsin replies.

"We haven't either," Nova Scotia offers, "Illinois and Minnesota say the same thing."

"I feel like we're being watched," South Dakoda says.

"Us too. Ohio's been staring out the window because of it," North Dakoda says.

"All my passengers are asleep, but I could've sworn I heard someone talking. I couldn't understand it, but it was there," Saskatchewan says.

"And then-"

"Shut up," Michigan snaps, "do you guys see that?"

"See what?" Dixie demands.

"The thing on the left side of the road," Michigan replies.

Russia sits up a little more in his seat and tries to get a peek outside, but can't see anything. America stirs and sits up, yawning.

"Gan, I don't see nothing," Texas says, cautious.

"It's... holy s*** that thing is huge..." Michigan says, trailing off.

"Ignore it," Arizona says into the radio, her voice sounds strange.

"What?"

"I said IGNORE IT," Arizona demands.

"But what is it?"

"A Navajo story that I will NOT explain right now. Do not say its name, you will get its attention," Arizona demands. 

Russia feels his hair stand on end. America tenses and straightens in his seat, a scared look in his eyes. Russia wraps him in a protective hold.

'Something is watching us.'

He looks out the window over Georgia's head and doesn't see anything.

At first.

"We have to keep driving. NO EXCEPTION," Arizona demands into the radio, her voice shaky, "if it jumps out, hit it. That's no animal. I will try to do a prayer when we stop so the evil may forget our faces. But do not stop. Do not serve."

The pass, the atmosphere tense. Russia stares out the window. He spots a black shadow thing sitting on the side of the road, bright red eyes stare at him as they pass.

Then he sees it get up.

"It's getting up," Russia tries to stay, but even America gives him a confused look. The words sound garbled and Russia groans.

"Monster," Russia says, his speech slow and enunciated, "stand."

Then the radio blasts the sounds of someone fumbling the microphone.

"IT'S FOLLOWING US!" Delaware shouts.

Behind Delaware's voice is panicked screaming and arguing. 

Looking out through the rearview window, Russia sees a disturbing thing chasing them, it runs out from behind Delaware's car.

It passes into the headlights, and Russia feels like he's going to vomit. It looked kinda like a deer, but like it had been turned inside-out. It looked too large to be normal, and it ran on its hind legs.

"Someone sent it after us," Arizona mutters.

"Should we shoot it?" Alabama asks.

"No. It'll lose interest, just keep going," Arizona insists.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Bama. I swear to God, if I hear a single gunshot, I'll make sure you're the first one it eats."

The thing begins to run beside the car, and Russia gets a close-up view of its contorted features. Its face looks scarily human.

Almost. 

Its teeth stuck out, like the jaw of a horse. It's nose looked like the skeletal nostrils of a human, and its eyes. 

Its eyes cause him to freeze. 

They look human. Wide, and a golden hazel color. They stare into his soul and hold a deep, unfathomable animosity for him. 

His eyes lock with it.

His heart stops.

The urge to break eye contact is intense, but he refuses to listen. Something deep in this gut tells him not to look away

He stares until it changes its gaze. It springs into the air, soaring over the road. 

It lands and screams.

The scream sounded like someone whose lungs were filling with blood. It is piercing and gurgled.

Then, it turns and disappears behind the trees on the other side of the road.


	6. Home Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally found a place to set up a headquarters.

"YOU ABSOLUTE F***ING DUNCE!" Arizona shrieks, "DO YOU KNOW HOW STUPID THAT WAS?!"

Russia sits, frozen as she screams at the top of her lungs in his face. Texas doesn't even look startled.

"Ari-" America tries.

"NO! YOU KNOW HOW F***ING STUPID THAT WAS! PAPA, WHAT COULD'VE HAPPENED?! NOTHING THAT WOULD'VE ENDED WITH US ALIVE!"

Arizona huffs before she stares back at Russia, anger and fear in her eyes, and her hair starts to smoke.

"If you light my car on fire, you're paying for the repairs," Kansas mutters.

"Did you look away?" she hisses.

"I SAID DID YOU LOOK AWAY?!" she shouts.

"No! No," Russia answers, shaking his head, his tongue stuck in his mouth, "it..look...down...first."

Arizona stares at him harshly.

"He's telling the truth," Kansas says from the front of the car.

Arizona shrinks back into her seat, muttering something in a language Russia doesn't recognize.

"Don't do that ever again," America says.

"Do...what?" Russia forces out.

"Don't ever make eye-contact with anything like that again," America demands.

"...Why?"

"Because if you get into a staring contest like that, and you accidentally look away, you become the next f***ing target, and you can't just get rid of that," America says, "you got really f***ing lucky that you didn't look away first."

"Well, don't ever do that again unless you want to have something hunting you 'till you end up dead. At least now, it probably means that it won't be following us anymore," Arizona says.

"Yo! What the F*** just happened with your car?" New York says into the radio, "we saw the thing keep up with you and then run off."

"Rus got into a staring contest," Texas replies.

"HE F***ING WHAT?"

"Ari already gave him his scolding."

"Tex, please tell me that Russia won."

"He did, don't worry."

The radio gets quiet.

America leans back on him and tilts his head up.

"Don't do that again, you lucking b*****," America mutters.

Russia nods, and America relaxes, leaning against him. Russia drapes his arms around America's shoulders, and America reaches up and grabs them, hugging them close. Russia closes his eyes, not to sleep, but to avoid looking outside the window.

They stop for gas a few more times, and America instructs them to enter in a group of four to pay for all the pumps at one time. Sure, the clerks were suspicious of them, but as long as they all behaved, they would be fine.

They cross the border into Idaho at dawn, and a few more hours in, they pull off the interstate into some side roads that wind into the trees.

America is sleeping against his chest, and Russia stares down at him, feeling lovestruck. He gently threads his fingers through America's hair, admiring the colored stripes. The more he plays with it, the more red strands would appear through the white. He admires the colors and the fluffy texture of every strand.

America shifts slightly but doesn't pull away.

"What are you doing?" America mumbles.

"Hair," Russia replies, having given up on any longer sentences today.

"You're too sweet," America giggles.

"You...sweet," Russia replies.

America smiles, and Russia feels his heart swell.

'He's so happy.'

'So cute.'

He pulls his hand out of America's hair and hugs him tight. America laughs and hugs Russia's arms. America smiles and sits back up. Russia looks up and sees Georgia looking away, looking a little dejected. Russia pokes America in the shoulder and nudges him to Georgia. America looks over, and almost coos at her

"Oh, baby girl. Are you okay?" America asks.

Georgia sniffles, but determinately stares out the window.

"'m not a baby," Georgia mumbles.

"But you're my baby," America says, "and you look like you're all worked up. What's wrong?"

Georgia covers her face and turns even further.

"Come on, baby, what's wrong?"

Georgia turns and looks down at her lap, her face red and she looks embarrassed. She signs something with her hands. The signs are fast and frantic.

"Oh," America mutters, "come here. All you have to do is ask."

America gathers Georgia up into a hug, and she leans against him, her arms at her sides.

"I missed you so much," Georgia says, "and I know I worry too much sometimes, but..."

"It's okay, I'm okay. You're my baby, the same as Tucky, the same as Arizona or Alaska. I love each and every one of you. Don't you forget it. I love you no matter what," America says.

"I know. I know. It's just... hard to remember sometimes," Georgia mumbles.

Russia watches as America's heart break. America's face falls, and he squeezes his eyes shut with a pained look on his face. It looks as though he had taken a blow to the chest. Georgia looks up and her face takes on a panicked look.

"Dad! I didn't mean to make you upset!" Georgia says, and she tries to pull away in her panic. America pulls her back into a tight hug. He places a hand on the back of her head to hug her tightly.

"It's okay. It's not your fault," America says, but the way he says it makes Russia's heart clench. Pain and guilt paint the words.

Russia wants to reach out, to make it better, to take that pain away, but he resists. America needed to be there for his children, and Russia doesn't want to intrude.

America just hugs Georgia a little tighter and takes a shaky breath. 

"I'll do better, I promise," America says quietly.

"I love you, Dad," Georgia says.

"I love you too," America replies

"I'll do better for all of you. I will," America promises, "I will."

Georgia looks almost guilty but relents, turning and burying her face into America's chest. As soon as Georgia hides her face, America's face fell, and he looked like he was about to cry. America chews on his bottom lip, and his eyes just filled with guilt.

Russia's heart shatters. 

Georgia pulls away, and she looks a little less bothered. America steels over his expression and gives her a gentle smile. She returns it with a grin. 

Russia can see America swallow back his feelings, and he feels like his heart was being stomped on. 

'I'll help you,' he promises himself.

Russia looks up and meets Finland's eyes. Finland looks conflicted, but sympathetic. Finland turns back and seems to try to comfort a bothered New Mexico.

'We're on the same side,' Russia realizes.

He doesn't know what to feel about it. He didn't like Finland, and he knew Finland didn't like him, but right now, that doesn't matter. It doesn't matter anymore. These kids, these children, need stability, something, and America couldn't do it all.

'Almost 60 kids, we're going to have to work together.'

Russia began to think.

'I need to make some kind of ultimatum. I won't fight in front of these kids with all the things going on.'

He pulls out some paper and begins to try to write. The letters are crooked, uneven, and it takes a few tries to get the words right, and his hands shake, but this was easier to do than to try to talk.

It takes him nearly an hour to finish and he ends up with several sheets of paper discarded at his feet. When he finally finished, and the words are recognizable, he hands it up to Finland, whose seated right in front of him. Finland grabs the paper, and Russia sits back, waiting for her to respond.

"This is a mess," the letter had read, "I want to make amends. I will not apologize. I do not want an apology. I want to make a truce. No need to fight. The children need support."

He had ended the note with "Do you agree?"

His heart beats against his ribcage, though he tries to fight back the anxiety.

'Why am I so nervous?'

He counts the seconds, waiting for a response. He can hear Finland scribbling a response back on the paper.

Finland hands the paper back.

"I accept," it read. Russia looks down at it, and he feels shame fill him.

Staring at the paper, he couldn't help comparing the handwriting. His own looked like a child had written it, save any spelling mistakes. Finland's writing is neat, evenly spaced, and easy to read. His own had been similar before, but looking at how it had degraded made the back of his throat burn with embarrassment.

He feels the urge to crumple the paper but knows that this truce is more important than his feelings.

'I have to keep this, even as just a symbol.'

He glares down at it, and Finland gives him a questioning look. Russia saw her eyes trail down to the crumpled papers under his feet, and his cheeks burn. He looks away.

"Can I have the paper?" she asks. 

Russia hands it over but refuses to meet her eyes. A few moments later, she gives it back. Russia flinches and flips it over. The message isn't what she expects.

"It will get better," it reads, "do not be embarrassed. You are recovering from a near-death experience. It is fine."

He feels tears prick his eyes. He hadn't expected to make an ally out of Finland, he only wanted to keep the fighting to a minimum. He looks up and meets Finland's eye. Finland offers a small smile, and Russia returns with a grateful grin.

The tension that had been between the two since the Winter War finally starts to fade. 

Finland turns back and talks quietly with the states, and Russia turns his attention back to America, who had been sitting next to him, spaced-out almost completely.

"Okay?" Russia asks.

"Wha-oh. Yeah, I'm okay," America replies.

Russia stares into his eyes and feels doubt build in his chest.

'You are not okay. Talk to me. Please.'

"We're here," Texas announces, parking the car.

Russia stumbles out after the others, and they walk inside the building. Ohio brought in one of the radios. Russia got a look around the area and notes that it looks like an old industrial building. Walking in, he sees the roof is covered in cobwebs, but strangely enough, there is no graffiti or broken windows. 

The building seemed to be missing whatever machines had been used to produce whatever had been made here. Most of it had been taken, the walls are bare bricks, the same as the outside frame. The windows are dusty, and the sunlight filters through the dust on the glass, covering the floor in muted shadows.

The inside of the building is as cold as the outside, and the interior is all in two rooms. One is large and goes up 2-stories, and the second is connected and with 3 large garage doors where Russia assumes would have been a loading dock. The first room has a set of metal stairs that lead up to a metal grate floor above him that goes across most of the room.

"No one has been here for 10-ish years," Idaho says, "and it has no government ties. There are backroads that lead here. They're pretty worn down, and might be hard to drive, but they lead to the interstate, and looking in, it doesn't look like it goes to anything."

"I've got a generator to connect to the radio," Tenessee volunteers, and Tennessee and West Virginia go out to retrieve it with a few of the other states and Dixie.

"I need to sit down," America says before tilting over. Russia tries to catch him but doesn't have enough strength to help.

Russia tries to call for help, and though he knows his words were unintelligible, the others react to his tone, running forward to help. It's too chaotic to figure out who's helping America down, but everyone breathes a sigh of relief when New York says that he's okay, just needs to rest.

Russia walks around as Dixie and the others help carry in the generator and set it down. He scans the room for any dangers, but only sees some spiders and cobwebs and maybe a few discarded tools.

'It looks safe enough for now,' Russia decides, 'now to set up a home base here.'


	7. Leaky Faucet

The children run around the area, mostly just getting rid of nervous energy. California mans the radio and Ohio helps set up the generator outside and against an outside wall. California was flipping through radio channels, trying to find anything interesting.

Russia practices walking along the wall, leaning against it.

'I have to do this.'

'I have to get my autonomy back.'

"Hey four-eyes, catch!" Alabama shouts from the floor above.

"ALABAMA! MISSISSIPPI! DO NOT THROW ROCKS AT YOUR SIBLINGS!" America shouts.

A rock clatters on the metal grate. Thumping steps and running rings out above his head on the metal grates. He looks up and smiles at the mischief.

'It reminds me of home.'

Russia finishes circling the building, noting some of the doors along the walls. He makes it over to America, who is sitting in a blanket nest the states had constructed. He blunders forward, his legs sore. He stumbles and falls down into the middle. America chuckles and helps him sit up before pulling him into his lap. Russia stiffened a little before relaxing. He smiles. America kisses the back of his neck just below his hairline. 

Russia leans against America and closes his eyes. He listens to the chaos around him. It sounds like the kids were finally able to relax a little. They were safe here, at least for now. 

'I'm not used to being held.'

'I like it.'

"Warm," Russia says quietly.

America giggles.

"You like this?"

"...yes"

America tightens his arms a little before letting go.

"I'll have to enjoy your company later, okay?" America asks, "I have to go and make sure my kids know I love them."

Russia nods and moves out of the way. Once America gets up, Russia snuggles into the warm spot of the blankets. He watches America walk around as best as he could, and offer warmth to the states. The states mob him with hugs and smiles. America grins and makes sure to give them each hug and tell them things that Russia couldn't make out.

The states look ecstatic, enthusiastically talking and grouping around him. America laughs and gathers up as many of the states as he can, and hugs them tightly. They talk happily, and the states look so excited, some of them bouncing in place and laughing. After the states calm down a little, America comes back, but he had a weird look on his face. 

'He seems uncomfortable,' Russia notes.

Russia gets up and lets America back into his spot. America settles back with a wince.

Russia sits up with concern. 

"Okay?" Russia asks urgently.

"Yeah, I'm okay," America mumbles.

Russia is not convinced.

"Let.....me.....seeee......back," Russia says. The last word sounds garbled, but America turns around anyway.

Russia carefully pulled his shirt up to look at his injury. The area looks angry and red, and a little blood drips out from the now red-stained dressings. He gently presses the bloody bandages.

"How.....long?" Russia asks, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"It wasn't too bad. I just...the states may have been a little rough," America says with a pained laugh, "don't tell 'em, okay? I don't want them to be upset."

'These need to be changed.'

"Stay," Russia says.

"So demanding," America says with a laugh, but he doesn't disagree.

Russia stands on sore legs and walks over to grab one of the water bottles out of the pile of things brought into the building and the first aid kit. He focuses on making sure he doesn't drop anything as he waddles back over to the blanket nest.

He nudges America and America stand to follow him outside. They stand outside the doorway and Russia rinses off the blood and carefully rewraps the wound. As soon as he finishes, Russia snakes his arms underneath America's and hugs him from behind.

After a moment, he lets go and takes America's hand, and leads him back to the nest. The states walk around them and questioning them.

"Is Dad okay?"

"What happened?"

"What were you doing?"

"Dad?"

"I'm okay! I'm okay, don't worry about it, okay?" America says, waving off their concern.

The states back off a little but still hover around for a few minutes until they're sure America is okay. Texas is the last one to go, with one last concerned look, he walks off to help supervise the midwest.

Then, Russia could've sworn he heard something in the distance.

It doesn't sound like a car.

"What?" Russia asks. America turns to him with a confused look.

"Russ, what are you talking about?"

Russia points outside the door.

"Som....some...tin..." Russia tries before he growls in frustration.

America gives him a look of pity, and this just makes Russia more frustrated.

"What...out," Russia says, an angry tone in his voice.

"What? Did you hear something?"

Russia nods and points out the door.

"What was it?" America asks.

Russia gives him an annoyed look, and America looks away.

"Oh," America mutters, looking a little embarrassed.

Then, the noise happens again.

'It sounds like loud...stomping? Running?'

Russia couldn't place it, but it's deep, rattling.

"Dat," Russia says. He doesn't like how it sounds, but he decides it's easier that way.

"That's not good," America mutters. Russia nods before turning around to grab a weapon. Canada grabs his arm.

"You need to rest," Canada says.

Russia gives him a confused look.

"Look at your legs, they're shaking," Canada says.

'Oh.'

Canada pulls him away, and Philippines pulls America over behind them. Canada sits him down on the steps, and America is sat down next to him.

'I can't just sit here.'

Massachusetts begins casting wards with Arizona doing prayers next to him. Dixie stands with the states, but something doesn't look right. 

Dixie sways.

"..Meri?" Russia says, poking America's arm.

"What's up Russ?"

Russia points to Dixie. America looks up and stands as soon as he sees it. Russia stands up to follow, and he stumbles after America.

"Dix?" America says.

"Huh? Oh, hey Amy," Dixie says; his voice sounds soft.

"Dixie, are you okay?" 

"Wha- yeah. I'm fine. Y'all need to go sit down."

"You need to come with us," America insists.

Before Dixie can retort, his eyes roll back and he crumbles to the ground. Russia steps forward and catches Dixie by his arms, but his weight nearly topples Russia over.

"WOAH! Are you guys okay?" Canada exclaims, rushing over to take Dixie, "what happened?"

"I think Dixie just pushed himself too hard," America says, "here, put him in the blankets, and I'll watch over him."

Canad looks between America and Russia before nodding. With a little struggling, Dixie is snug against the edge of the nest, asleep. America sits nearby, looking on with worry in his eyes. Russia reaches out and gently rubs small circles on America's back.

"Do you guys see anything?" America asks, his voice strained.

"No. Not yet," Finland replies, "but the noise is getting closer." 

They sit in silence, waiting. Massachusetts casts a green shield around the building. A static-y feeling fills the air. States and provinces alike stand around the door, armed and ready.

Even still, The sounds stop once the ward is put up. They pause, listening. 

"Did it work?" America asks.

"Yeah, I think so. Whatever was approaching us is backing off," Massachusetts says with a proud smile.

America grins brightly.

"Awesome kiddo! That's perfect! Thank you," America gushes, and Massachusetts turns a little red.

"It's not that big a deal," Massachusetts insists, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away.

America laughs, gets up, and hugs Massachusetts before returning to Russia's side.

"We're going to need more supplies, especially with winter coming," New York says, getting the attention of everyone else in the building.

"Well, what do you say we do?" Utah asks.

"I need to know everything we need, and then some of us may have to go out to get it."

"Now?! What if that thing is still close?" America interjects.

"I didn't say we'd have to go now, I'd just like to know for when we do have to leave."

America sighs before pulling Russia back into his lap. Russia leans back, relaxing his aching muscles.

'It's going to take a long time to be better. But I can walk now,' Russia thinks with pride.

"I hope I'm doing this right," America mumbles into Russia's neck.

'What are you talking about?'

Russia turns his head slightly and cups the side of America's face with his hand. He gives America a confused look and America chuckles, looking away with an unstable smile.

"You don't want to hear me ramble, Russ. I know you don't," America says softly with a sigh.

"..wrong....tell," Russia says, his voice hoarse, and though he wouldn't admit it, all this talking is giving him a sore throat.

America buries his face into Russia's shoulder and shakes his head.

'Tell me. Please. I want to help.'

"Tell," Russia says, but he feels his voice begin to give out from use. 

America chuckles sadly.

"I'll ruin this too," America mutters. Russia shakes his head.

"You really wanna know what's going on in my head, huh?"

Russia nods. America sighs shakily.

"I just feel like I'm not doing enough," America admits with bated breath, "I need to do more, so much more, but I'm so tired. I don't know what else to do and... I mean, just look at Dixie. I'm the reason he's like that right now. He probably hasn't gotten a break since this started."

'You're still recovering from a stab wound!'

"And my own kids are having to protect me. It should be me protecting them! I don't need anyone defending me."

'That won't stop me.'

"And I feel like I can't even parent correctly," America mutters, his voice catching on his words, "I promised I wouldn't leave them behind. I promised myself I wouldn't ever make them feel like they weren't loved. Now look at them, most of them doubt that I even care."

'That's not true.'

"My country is falling apart, and I feel like that's just another thing I should be apologizing for."

'That's not your fault.'

"I'm sorry for clinging to you like this."

'I don't mind,' he thinks, tightening his hold around America's arms.

"I just don't wanna lose you," America mumbles, tightening his hold.

'You won't.'

"I'm so scared. Russ, I'm afraid I'm going to be stuck and watch one of the kids get hurt. H***, I already have. What kind of f***ing parent does that?" America whispers, his chest shaking. Russia pulls away to turn around, and America pulls away like he's on fire.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything-" America stammers out with a hiccup, panic filling his tone.

Russia quiets him by gently grasping his face. He stares into America's eyes, hoping to convey how much he cares without words. America makes a strange gasping sound before he just starts crying. America is curled up around himself, his arms and knees close to his chest, and he doesn't seem to know what to do with himself. The weeping and sobs grow in intensity and he sits there, his whole body shaking violently.

Russia pulls him in, trying to hold him together.

'It's okay. They know you care,' he wants to say, 'we're here, I'm here.'

America buries his face into Russia's chest and clings tightly to him, as if he let go, Russia would just disappear. Then a brightly colored flash catches Russia's attention.

He looks up and sees the states standing around, much closer than they had been. Most of them look worried, and a few looked panicked. They slowly walk closer, concern soaking their features. Philippines leads the group.

"Papa?" he asks, reaching out hesitantly. Then he looks up to Russia.

"What's wrong?"

"Stress..... guilt," Russia says, unsure if he could explain more.

Philippines nods with a sad look and takes a seat nearby, and the states follow his lead. They don't suffocate him, which Russia appreciates. They form a circle around them, and Russia can feel concern rolling off of them in waves.

'They don't want to leave their father alone like this,' Russia reasons. 

Russia holds him until his breathing finally calms down. Looking down, Russia realizes that he had cried himself to sleep. 

'He looks exhausted. I don't think Dixie is the only one pushing themselves too far.' 

He shifts, putting his back against the blankets, and letting America rest on his chest. The states try to keep up quiet conversations amongst themselves, but would all glance back with concerned looks. 

But they seemed to trust him with caring for America, which Russia takes as a good sign.

'Don't worry, I'll take care of him,' he wants to promise them.

'I will.'


	8. Planning

Russia just holds America. Holds him tight to his chest.

'I want to take your hurt away.'

'Please let me help you.'

The weight on his chest is comforting, and he spends his time rubbing America's back, and his eyes pull themselves shut. He lays contently. He listened to the people around him and gets lost in his tired thoughts.

'I want to kiss him again. Make him feel better.'

'I wonder how my father is doing.'

'How is Alaska? I miss her.'

'I like being warm.'

'I wonder why America is so worried about how the states feel? He loves them and shows it. Why does he doubt it?'

He feels America nuzzle his chest, and his heart swells. He opens his eyes and he looks down at America. America's face is completely relaxed. Russia also notices some faint music playing from the radio underneath the chatter of the states.

He feels like his heart is about to burst from adoration.

'Oh my god, he's so adorable.'

Russia reaches down and gently brushes America's hair aside. 

"Alright Russia, I want to talk to you," Someone says. Russia looks up and meets Delaware's eyes. 

"So, I see the way you've been acting around Dad. And Dad seems to trust you. So, what are your plans with him?"

"Help..." Russia rasps.

"Trying to get help from him?" Delaware asks accusingly.

Russia shakes his head, and America shifts. Russia immediately returns his attention to him to make sure America is comfortable.

"Help him?" Delaware asks skeptically. Russia nods and looks up at Delaware seriously. Delaware stares into his eyes, searching for something for a few more moments before smiling.

"Well, you seem serious. I'll tell the others that I'm giving you a shot. You seem to be helping, so you got our trust. Don't f*** it up. We've been trying to set Dad up with people for forever, and I think you're a keeper."

Russia grins.

"Jeez Del, I didn't think you'd be so blunt about it," America mutters.

Delaware laughs.

"But while you're over here, I want to discuss something with you, Dixie, Canada, and the others who could help with planning."

'Plan what?'

"Got it. I'll go get them," Delaware replies, walking off to presumably gather a few states to help.

A few minutes pass before the group is gathered, and Delaware shakes Dixie awake, who hopes up in a panic.

"What's going on?! Are y'all okay?" Dixie asks frantically, looking around at them, "Amy, were you crying? What happened? What's wrong? What was that thing? Did it get here?"

Dixie begins to fuss over America. America chuckles, gently pushing away Dixie.

"It's all fine, Dix. Del just woke you up because we thought you might want to be involved with the planning."

"On that note," Virginia says, "What are we planning anyway?"

"We can't just stay here forever! I don't think we'll be able to go back to the Big House anytime soon anyway," America says, shifting to face the group. Russia releases his arms to allow him to go, only for America to guild his hands back.

"You're not off the hook yet, Russ," he says with a playful spark in his eyes. Russia can't stop the smile from crossing his face.

"Anyway, I wanted input on what we should do next," America says, "you guys have any ideas?"

"Well," California starts, "we could see if we could get information."

"What do you mean?" New York asks.

"You know, espionage."

"Cali, this ain't some Hollywood movie," Texas says, shaking his head, "that ain't gonna work."

"Do you have any other ideas?"

Texas goes quiet.

"I was thinking that maybe we could figure out what's actually going on," California suggests.

"Do you think people would still be in the base we broke out of?" Massachusetts asks. Louisiana shakes her head.

"I don't think we'll find much there anyway," Louisiana adds.

"But it might be better than nothing," California defends.

"Are we sure we want to explore that place anyway?" New Jersey asks.

"Yes. We might be able to figure out why we're being targeted," Philippines adds.

"We'll need more supplies if some of us are going to break off from the group," Maryland says.

"Definitely," Georgia agrees.

"Some disposable phones would be a good thing to have for sure," California says.

"If anyone is leaving this place, I need to know," Dixie says, his arms crossed, "and we WILL stay in contact. The second I think something may have happened, I'm charging in, guns blazing, y'all hear me?"

"Well, who's gonna go?" West Virginia asks.

"Arizona and I," California asserts.

"I understand you, but why Ari?" Georgia asks.

"Well, Ari has magic that is not affected by magic blocks or anything."

"I want to go," Texas demands.

"I don't know if that's the best idea," Canada says.

"What do you mean?! Arizona gets to go but I don't?"

"You might be better off ready to charge in for a rescue mission rather than going," Canada explains.

"What? Am I not good enough to go?" Texas exclaims.

"No! We need a team to go in for information and we need a rescue team in case something goes down," Dixie explains. Texas huffs.

"We'll be going for information," America says, gesturing to himself and Russia.

"But you're still hurt for Christ's sake!" Dixie interjects.

"Okay, and? I need to know what's going on and whose a** I have to beat for messing with my kids. And Russ is coming with me either way."

Russia nods in agreement. Dixie sighs into his hands before looking back up, exasperated.

"There any way to change your mind?" Dixie says.

America shakes his head.

"Tuck should go too. He's good with electronics," Pennsylvania says.

"Penny's right," Massachusetts says.

"Don't call me that," Pennsylvania snaps.

"How big of a group are we going for?" Connecticut asks.

"Nothing too big. Five might be a good number for the espionage group. Now, who should be in the rescue group?" America says.

"I'm definitely going in the rescue group if I can't be with Dad," Texas says, staring around for anyone to disagree.

"Alabama and Mississippi would want to be in it too," Georgia adds.

"I want to go too!" Massachusetts interjects.

"You have to stay here to maintain the magic wards here," America rebuts. Massachusetts pouts.

"Wyoming and I will also join the rescue party," New Hamshire says.

"And New Mex is coming with me," Texas says.

"I'll be part of the rescue group too," Philippines says.

"Okay, so for the espionage group, we have Russia, America, California, Arizona, and Kentucky. For the Rescue group, we have Texas, New Mexico, Wyoming, New Hampshire, Alabama, Mississippi, and Philippines," New York recites.

"Anyone else?" New Jersey asks.

America shakes his head.

"What am I doin'?" Dixie ask.

America looks away.

"I think you will be here with Canada and me to keep everything under control. We need to keep this place protected," Finland says.

Dixie sighs. "At least I'm not doin' it by myself again," he mumbles. 

"What stuff should we get before anyone leaves? I can start a list," New York asks.

"Prepaid phones definitely. Some mats for the floor in here too," New Jersey says. 

"As much water and non-perishable food as you can manage," America says. 

"More blankets," South Carolina suggests.

"And pillows," finishes North Carolina.

"Some fabric too! It might be too expensive to buy extra clothes," Georgia says. 

"And maybe something to do while we're stuck here cuz pops said no throwing rocks," Alabama says.

"You aren't staying here for that long Bama," Dixie says.

"What do you mean?"

"The rescue team will be following us, but won't get involved unless needed. We can't have you hours away when we need you," America explains.

"Still," Alabama says with a shrug, "we're gonna be staying here until Dad's all healed up. That's long enough."

"Okay, games too," New York says with a sigh.

"Shouldn't you be writing this down?" Finland asks.

"Nah, I got a near-perfect memory, a short shopping list is f***ing nothing," New York says.

"We'll go out tomorrow for supplies," Dixie says.

"Sounds good to me," America mutters. 

"We should also get an ax or something to chop wood. We can have a firepit outside," Canada says.

"Want to get back to your lumberjack business huh?" America jokes.

Canada gives America a scathing look and America laughs.

"There's a stream nearby. We could probably use that to clean clothes and stuff until it freezes over," Idaho suggests.

"Good idea," Dixie says.

After a few more minutes of conversation, most of the kids disperse. Then the younger states crowd into the blankets. They crawl over each other and cuddle up next to America, and Russia by extension.

Russia smiles.

'Very sweet kids.'

"Hi," he mutters. 

Oklahoma looks up with a bright smile. Russia reaches over and ruffles her hair with a smile. Oklahoma grins.

Some of them begin to talk to Russia about all sorts of things, from sand to aliens, and Russia listens to every word. Sure, he didn't understand where most of it comes from, he tries his best to understand. 

"And Area 51 is hiding them, I know it!" Nevada rambles and Russia nods along.

Then America shifts and pulls away. Russia lets him go, feeling a little sad at the loss of heat until America nudges his way behind Russia. Then Russia finds himself in America's lap again. He feels heat rush to his cheeks.

'Oh.'

America nuzzles Russia's back and hugs him around the midsection. Russia smiles.

'This is nice.'

The states continue to fight over his attention, trying to make sure they're the one Russia is talking to.

'I didn't think that my attention was this important.'

Wyoming rattles off different adventures he'd been on, talking as loudly as he could to drown out his siblings, and the whole group raises in volume.

'It's like my siblings and I vying for our father's attention.'

Soon, the sun begins to set, and Russia feels America begin to lean against him. New York, California, and Texas hop up onto the windowsills with the darker blankets to set-up make-shift curtains to block out the view from the outside. Russia watches them do it, and still doesn't understand how that had gotten up there.

A battery-powered lantern is pulled out from one of the trucks and is set up in the middle of the room.

"I'll keep watch," Dixie volunteers.

"No you ain't," Texas interjects before Dixie can get up, "listen, Dixie, You're exhausted. Don't you deny it. Del, Penny, and I got it from here."

Russia hears Pennsylvania loudly disagree with the nickname, and laughs quietly, self-conscious of how it sounds.

Dixie grumbles under his breath but resettles into the nest. 

Russia leans forward and lies down on his stomach, America sprawled out on his back, asleep. Russia relaxes. Sure, the floor under the blankets is still noticeable, but it isn't the most uncomfortable thing Russia fell asleep on.

'America is like a blanket,' Russia thinks with a giggle, 'a very sunny, very cute blanket.'

'Maybe I can finally call my father once we have burner phones.'

Russia winces. He could only imagine the scolding he would get for disappearing for so long.

'It's better than leaving him and Alaska to worry.'

Russia's eyes close, and his sore muscles relax. He drifts off.


	9. Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stress and arguements.
> 
> "*Russian*"  
> "English"  
> 'Thoughts'

Russia wakes up to sunlight in his face and loud music. He looks up and spots the states having a dance competition of some sort. He smiles at the sight. He looks around a little more and spots America sitting near the states, clapping and cheering.

Russia staggers to his feet and walks over. His legs are still sore from yesterday, but he figures he'll manage.

"Hello Meri," He says, sitting next to him. His tongue feels much more at home in his mouth. Though his Russian accent is now much heavier in his words, he takes it as a good sign.

'It probably means I will be able to speak Russian with less of an issue.'

America looks up with a blinding smile and wraps an arm around his shoulders, hugging him.

"Good morning sleepy-head. How're you feeling?" America says, ruffling his hair. Russia laughs and pushes him away.

"I am doing better."

"That's great! I see you're talking more!" America says excitedly.

Russia smiles proudly.

"So, Dixie and his car left a little while ago to pick up supplies. We don't know when they'll be back, but it shouldn't be too long," America explains.

"How is Dixie?"

"He's doing better now. He's still going to need to take it easy, but he insisted on going, so, eh," America says with a shrug.

Russia nods before turning back to the states, who all seemed to be lining up, the provinces joining them. America laughs and joins them, leaving Russia with Finland.

Russia still isn't sure how to interact with Finland, so he sits quietly for a few moments.

"What are they doing?" Finland asks, sitting next to him.

"I don't know," Russia admits, "it seems.....planned?"

"Choreographed," Finland corrects.

Russia shrugs.

"They seem to be having fun," Russia says.

"Yeah," Finland says with a laugh. Then she sighs.

"It's good to have you back," she admits.

Russia looks at her, startled.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," she says with a glare. Russia looks away and she laughs.

"Really though, it was unpleasant seeing you frozen in your own body."

Russia nods. Finland sits back against the wall.

"They're a good group of kids," she comments, looking on at the states, "I don't think I was expecting this when I was told that America was father to the states."

"Most of them," Russia corrects.

"What do you mean?"

"Hawaii was a kingdom, so she kept her age."

"Really? I don't think I've met her."

Russia shakes his head.

"You haven't. She isn't here right now."

Finland hums but grows quiet as the states disperse. America walks over, laughing.

"Remind me to teach you the Cupid Shuffle," America says to Russia with a laugh. His giggling only grows louder at Russia's confused expression.

As soon as America starts calming down, the front door swings open violently, hitting the wall with a resounding clang.

Russia's eyes shoot up and he sees New Jersey, foot still extended from kicking the door in, with his arms full of fabric.

"Go help get stuff out of the car," New Jersey announces, and the states line up outside, bringing in bags of things and dumping them into the pile of miscellaneous items against the wall of the building

New York walks in just behind New Jersey, typing something into a burner phone. Once he's done typing, he walks over and hands it to Russia.

"Have fun talking to your dad," New York says with a smirk, walking away before Russia has the chance to hand it back.

Russia takes the phone and listens to the dialing tone on the other end.

'Uh oh.'

The phone rings for a moment before someone picks it up.

"*Hello?*" he hears someone mumble into the phone. It takes a moment for Russia to recognize his father's voice. 

'He sounds tired.'

"*Hello...Papa,*" Russia stammers.

"*Russia?!*" Soviet exclaims into the phone.

"*Yes,*" Russia replies, and he readies himself for screaming.

"*Why wasn't I told that you were awake?*"

"*It got...complicated*"

"*How complicated could it get?! Where I couldn't be told what's going on and I call the building and I find out that there was no hospital! I didn't even know if you would wake up,*" Soviet says, trailing off. Russia swallows back the guilt creeping up his throat.

"*I'm sorry.*"

"*I want you to come home.*"

"*...no.*"

"*...what did you say?*"

"*I'm not going home. Not yet.*"

"*You were nearly frozen to DEATH. And your stay in America is putting you in constant danger! I want you here.*"

"*No. I am staying.*"

"*Then what am I going to say?! Your President wants your company and I have been covering for you, but with the winter you summoned, I'm running out of excuses.*"

"*I can't just leave.*"

"*WHY?!*"

"*I can't.*"

"*You will come home immediately.*"

"*No.*"

"*Russia, I am not arguing with you. I don't know where you are, where you're going, anything! The last I heard was you were saved after nearly killing yourself and then you, still sick, still FROZEN, suddenly disappear and I can't contact anyone. And trying to contact where you were being treated got me nowhere! Were you even staying at a hospital, or was that just something else I had to assume. I am done with these games! You are coming home NOW.*"

"*I need to stay here.*"

"*You will not.*"

"*You can't make my decisions!*"

"*Maybe I should! You are constantly putting yourself in danger! Your country almost crumbled, and now you are refusing to come home. You're telling me that you are not leaving the danger outside of your own country while you are still healing. You are not responsible for fighting this! Come home.*"

"*You are not in charge of me!*" Russia screams into the phone, his voice breaks. Anger stirs in his chest. Heaving, he continues.

"*Not anymore,*" Russia growls, his words begin to blend, "*I can make my own decisions. I am staying here and I am going to help figure out what's going on.*"

"*You need to come home!*"

"*NO!*"

"*What are you staying for?!*"

"*To protect the people here!*"

"*Why can't you just listen to what I'm saying?! You need to be able to protect yourself! You need to come home! Personifications are being taken at a much faster rate, especially in and around North America. You need to leave!*"

Russia's vision goes red.

"*No! I'm not leaving them behind!*" he screams, his throat burns, though if it's from damage or anger, he can't tell.

"*I need to know you're going to be safe! And I know you aren't going to be when you're still there!*"

"*I am NOT coming home.*"

"*NO! I-*"

Russia hangs up the phone and stands up, pacing along the wall. 

'How dare he try to take charge of me. He said he wouldn't do that again.'

The phone rings again and again, and Russia glares down at it.

'No. I am not going to let him. I am not arguing about this. I am not going home.'

America puts a hand on his shoulder and a sympathetic look.

"What happened?"

"*My father is trying to force me to travel back.*"

"...He's got a reason for doing it, you know."

"What?" Russia snaps.

"It's the same as yours!"

Russia takes a step back, feeling almost betrayed.

'You were supposed to be on my side!'

"I'm not saying you have to listen, but you have to see why he's doing this!" America exclaims.

Russia glares at him, waiting for him to elaborate, and America huffs.

"Why are you glaring at me like that? I'm trying to help!"

"*I don't want help!*"

"Fine," America snaps, "deny everyone trying to help you."

"*Why are you even trying to defend him?!*" Russia snaps.

"Because I understand where he's coming from! Because I know for a fact that if I knew that one of my kids nearly died and disappears and when I can finally talk to them, they refuse to come home, I would freak out! I would try anything to get them back where I can protect them!" America screams, "because I can see why he's trying so hard to get you home! Because I would do the same thing if it was my kid in your shoes."

The anger that had been building in Russia's chest fades. The fire in his throat remains, though now he can only guess that it meant he had hurt himself in his screaming match.

"But now, nooo, you don't want help, you don't want any of it! I'm trying to help you!" America yells before sighing.

"Listen, if you want to talk later, I'll be here. But I need a few minutes first," America mutters, turning around and walking outside.

The second America leaves, everyone in the room begins giving him dirty looks, and guilt settles in his stomach in place of the anger. He looks away from the prying eyes and walks over to a vacant corner under the stairs.

He slides down the wall and curls up, wishing that he could be just a little smaller.

'Why did I do that?'

'Why did I snap at him like that?'

'I find something good, and I scream at it until it disappears.'

'Again.'

'Good job Russia. Pushing away someone who makes you happy,' he scolds himself.

Russia shuts his eyes, tightly, and swallows the lump in his throat. 

'Am I going to be able to talk to him again?'

Russia doesn't know if he can bring himself to, but he doesn't know what else to do. 

'I have to say something. I have to fix this.'

Suddenly, someone grabs him by the collar and he is yanked to his feet. His eyes snap open and he comes face-to-face with an angry Dixie.

"You're gonna go out there and you're gonna apologize," Dixie growls, pointing to the door, "now."

Feeling like he had no other choice, he nods. Dixie shoves him forward, and he walks to the door, keeping his head down. He can feel the states staring holes into the back of his head. 

The states speak amongst themselves about what had happened in whispers. Russia slowly walks over to the door, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

The phone sits on the floor where he had dropped it, silent.


	10. Preparation

Russia walks out and sees America sitting on the steps, chin on his fist.

Russia opens his mouth to try to speak, but nothing comes out. He tries again, but he finds his voice had been reduced to a shallow whisper.

"...Meri?" he rasps.

"Oh. Hey, Russ," America says, staring into the trees.

"I'm sorry," Russia tries to say.

"What?" America asks, looking up at Russia.

"I'm sorry," Russia tries again, but still, his voice doesn't cooperate. 

'So I could scream before and now I can't talk?!' he thinks, frustration bubbles up from his throat.

America chuckles.

"Sounds like your screaming messed up your voice," America suggests.

Russia looks down.

"Sit with me?" America asks, patting the step next to him. Russia takes a seat.

"Sorry for snapping at you," America says, "you're stressed and upset. I just saw myself on the other end of the phone and I...I freaked out. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I should've been more on your side, and I am. I'm so happy you decided to stay with us."

America puts his head on Russia's shoulder.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," Russia forces out before he hunches over in a coughing fit and America pulls away. He clutched at his throat. 

'It burns.'

'But I have to apologize.'

"I shouldn't have. You were-" Russia is cut off again by another fit of coughing. 

"Hey, don't hurt yourself," America says.

An iron-y taste paints the back of his tongue. 

"I forgive you. It's okay. I'm here," America says. 

They sit quietly, and America returns his head to Russia's shoulder. Then, America shivers.

"Let's go back inside," America says quietly, "it's getting cold."

Russia stands and helps America to his feet. America takes his hand and smiles. Russia pulls him up and they walk back inside the building. Russia heaves open the door and they walk in hand in hand.

"You know, your dad's probably just worried about you," America mutters.

Russia nods before making grabby-hands at a nearby pad of paper with a pen attached to it. America giggles and grabs it, handing it to Russia.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," Russia writes, "I will call my father once I can talk again."

America smiles. "Sounds like a plan," he says.

Russia looks around at the others and sees the dirty looks they're giving him. He looks at his shoes and America steps in front of him.

"Hey, he's fine! He's fine," America defends, standing in between the states and Russia.

A few more scowls are shot his way, but nothing more. Russia looks down again and America leans up and pecks him on the cheek. Russia freezes up and his eyes shoot to America's proud smile. 

Once he faces America, America grabs his face and kisses him. Russia's eyes shut and he leans in, but before he can explore America's mouth, America pulls back.

Russia pouts playfully and America smirks. Russia swiftly recaptures America's mouth in a deep kiss and nibbles on his lip.

"Hey, not in front of the children!" Dixie scolds, and Russia pulls away, red-faced. 

America pulls him down and kisses him one last time before fully pulling away, retreating with a smirk. Russia crosses his arms and tries to calm himself down, lest he have a hard to hid problem. America giggles before pulling him by his hand over to the pile of things against the wall.

"Help me sort 'em out?" America suggests, waving to the pile of miscellaneous supplies.

Russia nods, and America begins handing him different items, and Russia tries his best to neatly stack them up against the wall. Dixie and his group leave soon after Russia and America had come back inside, leaving in his truck to get more supplies. Russia focuses on stacking the cans so they wouldn't fall over, unknowingly sticking out his tongue in concentration.

He turns to America giggling. 

"You're adorable," America says, kissing Russia on the forehead. Russia is reduced to a flustered, blushing mess.

"Hey Dad, check this out!" Massachusetts calls from behind them. 

America stands up and turns around, and Russia turns as well out of curiosity. He sees Massachusetts summoning a mass of green magic that solidifies in his hands. Russia watches for a few more moments before standing up and standing behind the state.

As he expected, the magic explodes, sending Massachusetts flying backward. Russia readies himself and catches Massachusetts before he hits anything less forgiving, like the brick wall behind them. Massachusetts stands up and brushes off imaginary dust, his face a little red.

"Thanks," Massachusetts mumbles.

America smiles.

"Are you trying to summon something?" America asks.

"Yeah. But it isn't f***ing working," Massachusetts replies with a scowl. America chuckles.

"Well, is it something you used to use?" America asks.

"I mean, yeah."

"So imagine you're using it again," America says, extending a hand and summoning light blue magic, swirling in the shape of a long pole. Then with a faint flash, a scythe appears in America's hand. The shape starts as faintly transparent with a bluish tinge.

"Think about what it looks like and how you would use it. Then summon your magic and solidify it. You can't just imagine the shape or else it won't solidify the way you want it to."

Then the object solidifies instantaneously. The tool itself towers over America's head, and the blade reflects incoming sunlight in an almost blinding gleam. Russia's jaw drops.

America meets his eyes and smiles.

"You like it?" America asks.

Russia nods, wide-eyed.

"I'm going to make them regret messing with my kids," America promises to him with a bright smile, but the look in his eyes makes Russia pause. America's eyes looked bloodthirsty and angry. 

'The angel of death.' 

Russia stares at the startling image in front of him.

"And once you solidify it," America says, turning back to Massachusetts, "It doesn't take any magic to maintain as long as your touching it."

Massachusetts nods, returning to experiment with his own magic.

America smiles before spinning the scythe around and is surrounded by an arc of light blue.

'Show off.'

"OOH OOH!" Florida cries, "Cut this!"

Florida tosses a waterbottle from behind America. America spins and slices it in half, using the weapon as an extension of his arm. The only reason he knew that the water bottle had actually been cut was when the two pieces separate hitting the ground and the water splashes everywhere.

'Oh.'

America lets the scythe go, and it dissolves before it hits the ground. Then America saunters over to Russia with a confident smirk.

'Confidence suits you.'

"You enjoying the show?" America asks. Russia nods enthusiastically. 

"Hey, y'all! Come and get stuff outa the truck!" Dixie shouts from the door.

The states rush out of the door and have a competition to carry as much as they can inside, Dixie and Canada follow behind them, picking up the dropped items.

Russia takes his seat in front of the stacks again, and America helps sort through the groceries. America starts tossing cans over to Russia, and Russia catches them, quickly stacking them together.

Russia reaches his hand up, only for the can to hit him on the side of the head.

'OW!'

Russia turns to glare at America, only to see he isn't there.

"Meri?" Russia mumbles, and he begins to look around. Then he notices the chaos in the middle of the building.

Cheering and chanting rings out, and Russia walks forward and sees America and Canada trying to separate Louisiana and Quebec. Russia walks in between the two and holds them apart by their shoulders.

"LET ME GO!" Louisiana shrieks.

Quebec replies with something Russia doesn't understand, but it does have Canada start scolding her, so he assumes it isn't good.

"Thanks," America says, "and Louisiana! I told you not to fight with your cousin."

"But she ____________________________" Louisiana rebuts, ranting in what sounds like French.

America stands by and crosses his arms with a scowl. Louisiana quiets and looks away.

"Alright Russ, you can let 'em go," America says.

Russia releases their arms and left America and Canada to deal with the kids. After a good scolding and sending Louisiana to a corner, America walks back over to Russia.

"Thanks for splitting that up," America says.

Then America looks at Russia a little more closely and his eyes go wide.

"Are you okay? What happened?" America fusses, grabbing Russia's head and tilting it around to get a better look.

"Oh! Wait just a second," America says, and he swiftly grabs a notepad and pen and shoves it into Russia's hands.

Russia accepts it and begins to write. 

"You threw a can at my head," Russia writes and flips the pad around for America to see.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry. I got distracted," America says. America gently gabs his face and places a gentle kiss on the bruise.

Russia freezes up.

'I don't think I'll ever get used to the butterflies.'

America turns his attention elsewhere as if he didn't realize how much of a blushy mess he had left Russia.

"Bama, your truck better be clean!" America calls. Alabama nods, a little panicked, and he rushed outside with Mississippi on his tail. America sighs.

"That kid," America mumbles, in an exasperated, but loving tone.

"It ain't too bad, Pops," Georgia says encouragingly. "You might find a stray firework or three under the seats though," she warns.

America snickers into his hand at the warning and waves Georgia off with a "thank you."

Russia can't help himself and he wraps his arms around America, and America smiles, his face growing bright pink. America tucks his arms against Russia's chest.

Russia smiles proudly.

'See! I can make you flustered too.'

America is reduced to a giggly, blushy puddle that Russia finds himself carrying. Russia smiles and stares down at the adorable man in his arms with hearts in his eyes.

Russia hugs America to his chest and closes his eyes, nuzzling into his hair. Fluttery feelings fill his stomach, and Russia can't help the even wider smile that forces itself on his face. 

'How could one person be so cute? It should be impossible.'

Russia tightens his hug and spins around. America wraps his arms around Russia's back. America's legs lift slightly off the ground and America laughs into Russia's shoulder. 

Russia slows his spinning and peppers America's face with kisses and America laughs.

"Stop!" America giggles, playfully pushing Russia's face away. 

"Y'all two are bein' way too sweet," Dixie says, shaking his head.

Russia grins and nuzzles America's forehead. America giggles before turning to Dixie.

"We can do what we want," America says with a mischievous spark in his eyes. 

Dixie shakes his head.

"Y'all do know y'all have to pack your bags, right?" Dixie asks.

"That can wait," America says flippantly.

Dixie rolls his eyes, but Russia notes that he can't seem to wipe the smile off his face. Russia pecks America's forehead before releasing him.

"Aww...come on," America whines. Russia pulls away and picks up the paper.

"We need to prepare to leave," Russia writes. America groans.

"You're no fun," America says with a pout.

Russia just responds with a smile.


	11. Road Block

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monsters

Alabama, Mississippi, Texas, New Mexico, New Hampshire, Wyoming, and Philippines get their things prepared and thrown into Delaware's car and America makes sure that his group is packed and ready to go. Russia helps shove food and water under the seats in the cars, tossing extra fireworks and guns from under Alabama's seats into the truck bed with the luggage.

"We are leaving in the morning," America announces. Russia nods along beside him. After the bags are packed, and Dixie ran out and got some more clothes for them to pack, Russia relaxed in the middle of the blankets, and the states and provinces join him as the sun sets and the temperature drops.

America squeezes in between Russia and the Dakodas and snuggles up into Russia's side.

"Don't want you to be cold," America says.

"I'll keep watch with Jersey," New York volunteers.

"Okay, sounds good to me," America says before tucking his face into Russia's chest. 

The warmth feels good against the cold winter air that leaks through the doorframe and walls. The states get closer. 

Soon, Russia finds himself at the center of a pile of states and provinces smushed together and fast asleep. Russia strokes America's hair calmly and watches New York walk around, his footsteps echo strangely against the walls.

New York sits on the stairs and removes his leg.

'WHAT?!'

"New York?" Russia mutters, voice full of confusion.

New York looks up, a little startled before he calms.

"Yeah, Russia?"

"*Your leg?*" Russia asks.

"*Oh, I lost it. I'm fine,*" New York replies flippantly.

Russia hums in acknowledgment, but questions still float around his head. Eventually, he shrugs them off.

Russia looks down at America on his chest and smiles. He snakes his arms around America's waist just under his shirt and pulls him up. 

'He feels so warm.'

America mutters into his chest and curls his arms up to his chest. Russia smiles and closes his eyes. He drifts off, warm with America on his chest. He wakes up a little while later with soft talking in the background and America shaking.

"America?" Russia whispers.

America whines.

"Meri?" Russia asks, and he runs his hand through America's hair gently. America opens his eyes and tears stream down his face. 

"Are you okay?" Russia mutters.

America shakes his head, hiding his face. Russia's heart clenches. He reaches down and traces shapes on America's back and hums lullabies he remembers from his childhood. America calms down and tilts his head.

"Thanks," America mutters.

Russia nods and continues humming, his eyes pulling themselves close.

When he wakes up again, it's to conversations surrounding him. Opening his eyes, he sees that the pile of kids hadn't moved from around him, but they had begun to talk with each other. What they were talking about, Russia isn't sure.

Russia sits up with America in his lap and rubs his face.

"Hi, Russ!" West Virginia chimes.

"*Good morning,*" Russia replies with a yawn. 

Russia pets America's hair and smiles. America shifts.

"Hi," Russia mutters, brushing America's hair off his face.

"Mornin'," America mumbles, burying his face into Russia's chest. Russia smiles.

"We have to get going," Russia says, beginning to stand up. America whines and tries to pull him back down.

"But I don't want to get up," America complains.

Russia sighs and shakes his head. He begins trying to detach America's arms, and America tightens his hold. Russia chuckles.

"Let go," Russia says, gently trying to pull away. But even as he tries to keep his tone serious, affection still leaks into his words.

"Fine," America grumbles, letting go and sinking into the blankets that Russia had been lying on. Russia smiles.

'He's cute.'

Russia gets himself ready to leave, and California and Kentucky are trying to get Arizona to finish getting dressed. He fixes his hat over his bedhead and walks back over to the blankets to see America still curled up on the blankets, his eyes poking up above the edge, watching him. Russia meets his eyes, and America ducks away. Russia smiles.

"Come on, we need to leave," Russia says, and America pouts.

Russia leans over and reaches his arms under America's arms and hoists him up to his feet.

"Ruusssss...." America whines.

Russia smirks.

"Get ready or I will leave you here," Russia threatens playfully.

America scrambles away, hurriedly trying to get changed.

Motion catches Russia's attention and he speed-walks over to California, who is holding a fireball.

"Are you okay?" Russia asks.

"Yeah, Ari is just being, like, a brat," California complains, pushing the human-sized fireball away from herself.

The fireball cackles and pulls away from Califonia, flames soaring behind her.

"ARIZONA! Put yourself out this instant!" America screams, "You could burn everything we have here!"

The fireball stops and the flames smoke before disappearing, leaving a pouting Arizona in their place.

"Alright y'all, my group is all packed up, and Fee is driving," Texas says from the doorway.

"Does Phil have the keys?" Delaware asks.

"Yeah, he's already got the car started."

Delaware flashes a thumbs-up before turning back to help Dixie and Virginia make breakfast. 

Then, Russia is pulled into a hug by someone from behind him.

"We're good too," America says, "Tuck finished packing."

Russia smiles and hugs America's arms.

"Okay, then what are we waiting for?!" Arizona calls from the doorway and Russia smiles. 

They walk over to the truck and America takes the driver's seat and Russia hops into the passenger's seat.

'Let's go.'

Their destination is a sketchy looking motel at the mid-point between the safe-house and the base coordinates New York had given them before leaving. They had to make it to Utah tonight and try not to get stranded.

Russia is driving when the sun begins to disappear over the horizon. His left hand stays on the wheel and America holds his right, talking to him about how rockets work and how space was so amazing.

Russia tries to remember as much as he can and tries to reply the best he can. Some of the English words are strange: like "quasar" or "blazar" or a number of other words that didn't translate well. Trying to repeat the words sounds clunky and wrong. Even still, he notices that America just seems happy he's taking an interest, so he keeps trying to ask anything that comes to mind.

But after a bit of talking, America suddenly stops. Russia glances at him and sees him look away, upset.

'Did I say something?'

"What's wrong?" Russia asks.

"It's nothing," America says, "I just figured I was annoying you."

"Annoying me?" Russia repeats incredulously, "No, you weren't. What made you think that?"

"Most people say I get annoying when I get too excited, so.." America mumbles, waving his hands as if to finish his sentence.

Russia glances up in the rearview mirror at the kids for a reaction and sees most of them look sad as if this isn't the first time they had heard this. His heart clenches.

'Have they had this conversation before?'

"Well, they're wrong," Russia replies, squeezing America's hand, "What you have to say is interesting, and the fact that you know without a reference is amazing."

"...really?" America asks.

"Yes. Not only that, talking about it makes you excited. What else would I want to hear about?" Russia says, turning to give America a caring smile before turning his attention back to the road.

There is a brief pause in the conversation as America plays with Russia's fingers before fitting their hands back together. 

"...do you wanna hear about supernovas?" America asks nervously.

"Of course," Russia says with a smile, "tell me all I need to know."

Apparently, he needed to know everything. But that's okay. 

America enthusiastically explains the classifications of supernovas and nebulas, and Russia listens, trying to commit the words to memory.

'This is important to him. I should remember as much as I can about what he's talking about.'

They spend hours talking, and Russia wouldn't have traded it for the world. Eventually, America quiets, instead just messing with the radio or playing with Russia's hand, intertwining their fingers and pulling them apart. Russia smiles, but only briefly.

The hair on the back of his neck stands up and he searches around for the source with a furtive gaze. America sits up in his seat, noticing the change in expression.

"What's up?" America asks cautiously.

"Something is watching us," Russia replies.

America nods stiffly before scanning out the windows for a threat. 

"What's going on?" California asks.

"Just fix your seatbelts and whatever you do, don't get out of the car," America says, magic sparking at his fingers, "because there is definitely something watching us."

Russia puts both hands on the steering wheel and grips it tightly. America picks up the radio. "Get ready, something's following us. For now, just keep driving and keep your distance in case we have to stop," he says.

"Got it," Wyoming replies.

A pair of yellow orbs glint from in between the rocks.

His grip tightens and he stares at the road, refusing to give the creature his attention. It's footsteps begin to shake the ground as it runs alongside them. Russia scowls and tenses.

Then, something jumps out from the cliffside a few dozen meters from the car. Russia slams on the breaks. America is already halfway out the door, scythe in hand and baring his teeth.

"It isn't going to let us pass without a fight. Cali, stay here with your siblings and tell the others to cover us. Russ, you're with me," America demands. Russia yanks the emergency brake and the truck screeches to a stop. 

Russia dives out and slams the door, racing behind America before the truck had come to a full stop.

The creature is gangly and its head is that of an emaciated deer. Its skin stretches painfully over its protruding ribcage, and it stood around 7 meters tall. 

It tries swiping at America, but Russia intercepts, grabbing its arm and slamming it to the ground. 

Crack!

The thing goes tumbling for a meter or so before scrambling back up to its feet with an angry roar. Gunshots ring out around him and Russia quickly looks around at the chaos behind him. The rescue group had fanned out, shooting into the rocks at several pairs of eyes surrounding them.

"Hold it steady," America screams, the blade of the scythe raised high above his head. Russia lunges at the monster and grabs the creature's neck. It thrashes, and America charges with a battle cry. Russia jumps back to avoid the blow.

The creature shrieks in a tone that makes Russia's ears ring before beginning to dissolve. Then he hears growling around them.

"We gotta get outa here!" Alabama yells.

The circles of headlights growing brighter against the rocky walls around Russia. He spins to see California and New Hamshire in the cars, racing to them. 

The rescue group scramble into New Hamshire's car and Russia grabs onto the truck, too impatient to let it stop, wrenching open the passenger door. He jumps into the seat and turns around, grabbing America by the hips and pulling him onto his lap. He slams the door shut as soon as America is inside. California speeds off, tires squealing, with New Hampshire on her tail.

America pants heavily, leaning his head against Russia's sternum.

"You okay?" America asks breathlessly.

"Yes. Are you?" Russia replies, his heart still hammering out of his chest.

America nods.

"Are all you kiddos okay?" America asks, turning to California.

"Yeah, we're good," California says with a sigh before grabbing the radio.

"Did everyone make it back to your car?" California asks into the radio.

"Yup! We're all good," Mississippi chirps.

America breathes a sigh of relief, and They speed off, out of the rocks and back under the stars.


	12. Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evil children

Russia leans back, pulling America closer. America fidgets but doesn't pull away.

"Your work with the scythe was impressive," Russia mutters, his breath brushing America's neck.

"Thanks," America says, "Make sure you don't crash, okay Cali?"

"Not a problem, dad!"

America's breathing is back to normal, and Russia feels his heart-rate finally calm down. The adrenalin from the fight is finally beginning to filter out of his system.

"Is there anything else around?" Russia asks tentatively.

"Nah, I don't think so," America replies.

Russia tucks his head into America's neck with a sigh. He lays there for a moment, taking a deep breath in.

'You smell nice,' Russia thinks, nuzzling into America, smiling into the nape of his neck.

"Hey Dad, can you, like, navigate?" California asks. 

"Sure kiddo, let me just grab the map," America says. Russia loosens his arms to let America lean over to search for the atlas. Once America sits back up, Russia grabs him by the hips and pulls him back. Then he sweeps his hands over America's chest and holds America in a hug.

America relaxes against him and holds up a thick book of maps. Russia peeks over America's shoulder to peek at the crisscrossing of roads and rivers. America traces his finger along one of the roads on the map, humming softly.

"Just follow this until you can take an off-ramp onto interstate 15 going southbound. We're getting pretty close, so keep an eye out, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks," California chirps, her attention returning to the space illuminated by the high-beams.

Russia watches the scenery pass, only to grow bored by the bland, washed-out colors. He zones out, and he lets his mind wander.

'I should call my father.'

'I don't want to do that right now. I'll do it tomorrow.'

'Touching America makes me feel nice.'

'How many monsters are we going to fight?'

'I wonder what's really going on with the 'army'?'

'I should ask.'

"Meri?" Russia mumbles.

"Yeah?" America says.

"You said we had to 'take down an army.' What did you mean by that?"

"You heard me?" America asks incredulously.

"Yes, and that was the one thing that had me confused."

"Nothing else?" America asks. 

Russia nods.

'His tone sounds off.'

"No. What army are you talking about?" Russia asks.

"oh..." America mumbles quietly before swallowing, "um, so we think they're calling themselves 'The Revolution'. We think they're after us for our immortality, but we're not sure yet," he says, pain in his voice.

Anxiety and concern slams into Russia's chest. 

'What did I forget? What did I forget?!'

"They have quite a few bases, but we don't know how many or where they are, which is why we're going in to gather information. So, we're going to the base we broke out of to see if we can scavenge anything," America mutters.

"What's wrong? Did I say something wrong?" Russia asks.

America forces a chuckle that makes Russia flinch.

"It's nothing, Ruski. Don't worry about it," America mumbles. 

Russia tightens his arms and mentally scour through his memories, only to find fuzzy imprints from his time escaping and at the hospital. The only word that stuck was 'army'. His face scrunched up in concentration, trying to find anything else, only to come up short. 

Russia only stops straining his mind when the car stutters to a stop in front of a sketchy looking motel.

"Come on, let's go get some rooms for us," America says, hopping out of the car and tucking a handgun from the side-door into his waistband before grabbing some cash. Russia stares at the gun for a moment.

"It's for protection. This ain't not a good place to be," America explains quietly, pulling his shirt over the gun handle. Russia shakes his head and walks into the lobby at America's side. He feels the urge to take his hand but decides against it. 

"We'd like to rent out two rooms," America says to the clerk. 

The clerk stares at them with bleary, bloodshot eyes.

"For how long?" The clerk stammers.

"For the night," America replies.

"That'll be everything you have," The clerk says before reaching under the counter.

'We can't afford this now.'

America stiffens before straightening his back. America approaches the counter and slams his hands on the counter.

"The posted price for the rooms is $48 each. I'm willing to pay $120 for 2 connecting rooms," America demands. 

The clerk jumps out of his chair with a large knife in his hand, his wiry frame slightly taller than America, and America reaches to his waist-band. Russia steps up to the counter and scowls down at the clerk.

"Don't try anything, rat," Russia growls, his r's rolling heavily off his tongue. The clerk stares up at him, and Russa holds his gaze. After a tense moment of silence, the clerk steps down, muttering about the "scary Russian man" and "I can't pay them off." 

Russia steps back slightly and stares at the clerk from over America's shoulder. 

"Here you go," the clerk mutters, tossing two keys over the counter as if hoping to distract them. Russia catches them without breaking eye contact, and the clerk visibly shrinks back. America counts out the cash and puts the bills on the counter. The clerk counts through it before trying to hide behind the desk. Russia smirks internally.

'Don't mess with him,' Russia thought, 'or I'll deal with you.'

They walk out, and Russia watches the clerk with a snarl until the door closes behind them. Russia tosses the sets of keys to America and America groans.

"Stupid druggies," he mutters. Russia nods in agreement.

"We should take everything in with us and lock the cars," America says, "this place is too sketchy to leave anything important visible."

Russia nods and starts by scooping up a sleeping Kentucky out from the backseat. America glances before swiveling around with a laugh.

"That's not what I meant, but okay," he says with a giggle. Russia shrugs and flashes him a grin. America rolls his eyes before unlocking one of the rooms.

Russia dumps Kentucky onto the closest bed and walks back out to help America get the states settled into the rooms. He opens the middle door between the rooms to allow easier access between them and helps hide anything they weren't taking out of the car, like snacks and water. The cash and weapons went under the mattress, and the bags went on the ends of the beds.

Once the doors are barricaded with the shelves, Russia gets changed. He falls back onto the bed with a grunt and America laughs before falling back beside him.

"I'm sleeping here too. The other bed is too cramped with Philippines, Tucky, and Cali here too," Arizona asserts from the side of the bed.

"Okay, c'mere kiddo," America mumbles, hoisting her up and into the middle of the bed dropping her into the blankets. Arizona giggles.

Arizona crawls over America's legs and takes one of the pillows, planting herself on the edge against the wall. America crosses his arms, but can't maintain the annoyed expression for long.

"Hey," America says playfully.

"Nope, my spot now," Arizona says with a grin.

America rolls his eyes with a tired grin. He scoots over toward Russia and leans back in the middle of the bed. The rescue crew's room gets a little rambunctious as they fight over pillows and space, but they settle down quickly. 

"Is anyone staying up?" Russia whispers.

"Nah. We'll know if someone is trying to get in, and all of us need sleep," America mumbles.

"Okay," Russia whispers before laying down, facing the door, with his back to the wall.

America snakes his arm around Russia's chest and their legs tangle together under the sheets, America's chest to Russia's back. 

Warmth calms his mind.

"We'll be okay," America says with a yawn. Russia yawns and sleep tugs at him. His eyes close, and he drifts off.

He wakes up to knocking outside the door. He ignores it. But when the knocking comes back, he groans and sits up, pulling away from America. America props himself up on an arm with a disgruntled huff.

"What's going on?" America grumbles.

"*I don't know,*" Russia whispers, rubbing his face, "*I'll check before I open the door.*"

"Okay, lemme know how that goes, m'kay?" America mumbles, sitting up against the pillows and laying his head against the headboard, closing his eyes. Russia nods and stands up.

Russia stumbles over to the door and stops short of the shelf. He squints at the light streaming through the peep-hole and sighs as the knocking continues. He leans over the shelf and peeks through.

He sees two small kids standing outside. 

A strange feeling grows in the pit of his stomach. 

The younger child raises their hand to knock again, only to stop just short of touching the door. The two children stand like statues for a moment before they whip their heads up to stare through the peep-hole.

Russia pulls away in horror and tries to tell America "something is wrong."

Instead, he finds himself beginning to move the shelf out of the way.

'What am I doing?' He thinks, trying in vain to pull away.

'Why can't I stop?!'

He fights the actions, but can't do much more than slow them down. A whine creeps up the back of his throat, and he hears shuffling from behind him.

"Russ? What's going on?" America asks from behind him.

'Help!' he mentally begs.

America is quiet for a moment before he gasps and yanks Russia's hands off the shelf. 

"S***," America mutters, spinning Russia around. His eyes are wide and they stare into Russia's with panic. Then America lets him go and shoves the shelf back into place.

Russia fights against his own body as something forces him to walk over with the intent to open the door, regardless of the shelf placed in front of it. America grabs his outstretched arms into a bearhug, pinning them to his sides. 

Then, the world takes on a light blue glow. 

It takes Russia a moment to realize that the room hadn't changed. Instead, he's surrounded by magic. America stands there and holds him tight until Russia feels himself stop fighting against the embrace.

Once Russia stops, America releases him and holds him at arm's length.

"Are you okay?" America whispers, his voice full of anxiety.

Russia nods.

"What did you see?" America presses, his eyes concentrated on Russia, and Russia squirms.

"Two children. Their eyes were black," Russia sputters.

America sighs before pulling him into a hug once again.

"Just... ignore the knocking for now. As long as no one lets them in, we'll be fine," America whispers.

"What about the states?"

"I'll keep an eye on them."

"Not by yourself."

"You need to go to sleep."

"I'm not going to let you do this alone," Russia insists.

America sighs. "Fine."

America pulls one of the chairs into the middle of the room and sits down. He waves Russia over, and Russia steps forward, confused. America pulls him down into his lap and Russia yelps. Amerca giggles at the reaction.

Russia forces his focus back to the doors and the kids in the rooms. It isn't hard, considering how wired the children outside had left him.

Heavy thuds against the door continue until the early morning when the sun begins to rise.


	13. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conflict causes some side-effects.

Russia watches the door with vigilance, or at least as much vigilance as he can manage as drowsiness fills his mind with a mild buzzing feeling. 

The knocking had stopped maybe an hour ago, but Russia can't convince himself to get up to check. The two sit in silence, waiting for someone else to wake up.

There's shuffling off to Russia's left, and when he turns to look, he sees Texas sitting up on the bed.

Russia turns away, and looks back at the door, holding his breath for another knock to ring out against the wood.

"Dad?" Texas asks.

America hums.

"What are y'all doin'? Is everything okay?" Texas asks, walking over to the chair.

"We woke up to some knocking, and something almost make Russ let in whatever was outside," America explains, threading his fingers through Russia's hair.

"'Made him'?"

"Black-eyed children and their influence," America mutters.

Texas nods in understanding.

"I'll take over for y'all. Maybe then y'all can get some sleep."

America chuckles. "Make sure no one tries to open the door while we wash up?"

"Sure thing Pops."

America shifts slightly, and Russia gets up.

"You can go first," America says, and the two take turns getting washed up and dressed.

When America stumbles back to the chair, Texas disappears into one of the bathrooms and the other kids begin to stir. Russia drops back into the chair and pulls America into his lap. More quiet shuffling follows and soon, Alabama and Mississippi are seated at America's feet.

"Mornin' Dad," Alabama mutters.

"G' mornin'," Mississippi mumbles.

"Good morning you two," America says with a smile, ruffling their hair, "did you two sleep okay?"

"Nah, felt kinda restless. Heard someone tryin' to get in, but figured y'all would deal with it," Alabama replies.

"Yeah. Heard weird things last night," Mississippi adds.

America sighs before getting up, stumbling around Alabama and Mississippi to peek out the curtains on the window, only to sigh and return to the chair.

"What's wrong?" Russia asks.

"The things are hiding out just out of my magic view. We'll be stuck here for a while," America says with a sigh. 

Alabama groans.

"What are we gonna do?" Mississippi complains.

"Nothing... at least for now. We're just gonna wait. They can't pass any closed thresholds," America explains, "I'm sorry, kiddos."

"Well, are we going to be figuring out what we're going to do?" New Hampshire asks.

"What do you mean?" New Mexico asks with a yawn, "aren't we just planning to get to the base and search for clues?"

"That's a stupid plan and you know it," New Hampshire rebuttals, "we need to know where they're looking and when we should interfere."

"Do you, like, have any ideas?" California asks, repainting her nails.

"Well, we have to figure that out," New Hampshire replies with a scowl.

Philippines moves in between the two, ready to break up any potential fights.

Russia tunes out the argument that festers between the siblings. He looks down at America had notes that America had drifted off, his head tilted back over the arm of the chair.

'That can't be comfortable.'

He scoops America up, and America curls up close to him. America's breathing sounds a little off as if he was congested.

'Is he sick?'

He brings America to their bed and lays him down. He pulls away and is about to return to the chair when he hears America whine from behind him. He goes back to America and sees that his face has scrunched up.

Concern bubbles in Russia's chest

Russia crawls into the blankets and sits against the headboard. He pulls America's head into his lap and begins stroking his hair. America relaxes a little, and his whining stops. Noticing the sweat in his hair, Russia places his hand against America's forehead, and America nuzzles it.

'He seems feverish,' Russia notes with worry.

"Can you make sure Dad's okay?" Wyoming says, a nervous look on his face.

"What do you mean?" Russia says.

"We ain't the smartest," Mississippi says, "but we do know that Dad ain't acting right. I know he don't sleep enough, but this is weird. Cuz even when he do catch up on sleep, it ain't never this much. He normally don't got any problems with stayin' up, 'specially after sleepin' well before we left. "

"And, like, he only gets this clingy when something's wrong," California adds.

Russia nods. The kids look around at each other and seem to agree on something unspoken. New Hampshire shakes Kentucky awake and they retreat to the other room. Texas turns on some cartoons on the television and turns up the volume. Kentucky eventually gets up and waddles over to join them, all wrapped up in a blanket with only his head visible. Arizona also hops up and jumps onto the bed in the other room, zooming around Kentucky and almost knocking him over.

Russia smiles.

America begins to shift a little before shooting up, frantically looking around.

"Meri? Meri," Russia says, "look at me. They're okay, just watching television in the other room."

America finally meets his eyes before slumping over, leaning fully against Russia.

"Are you okay?"

"...no."

"What's wrong?"

America whines again and buries his head into Russia's shoulder. Russia cradles him in his arms. America shakily grabs one of Russia's arms and guilds his hand under his shirt and up to around the middle of his stomach. Russia nearly pulls away, not expecting the heat radiating off of him.

Russia pulls America off in a panic and pulls his shirt off, revealing irritated and swollen lines of pink scar tissue surrounded by an angry red rash. America sways without Russia's support.

Russia mutters under his breath, grazing his fingers against the alarmingly warm scar. "What is happening?" he questions.

"I'm not sure. Please... just don't leave me alone like this," America mumbles, "I don't wanna be alone."

"I'm here. I'm here," Russia says, kissing America's forehead. America hums. Russia keeps his hands on America's shoulders to steady him.

"Something's wrong. My people aren't happy," America mumbles, "and my government...so wrong."

"Why did you fight yesterday?" Russia questions, annoyed that America would even try in such a state.

"I wasn't going to let my kids get hurt," America defend horsely before his talking lowers to a whisper, "and I didn't feel that bad. I guess it hit me last night, but I didn't want to leave you alone. Not with those things outside."

"How long has this been bothering you?"

"It's been escalating. I know my boss would make the transition hard, you know? But I didn't expect my own people to fight against me," America admits quietly, "fight against my ideas, my constitution. I know I'm not perfect, but..."

Russia waits a second for him to elaborate, but America doesn't continue.

'Why didn't you tell me? How long have you been pushing yourself this far?'

He looks into America's eyes, preparing to question him, only for his throat to go dry. America stares back with tired eyes and flushed cheeks. Russia dismisses his own questions and his face softens.

"What do you need?" Russia asks, placing a hand on America's cheek.

"What?" America asks, looking completely baffled.

"What do you need?"

"You're not angry I didn't tell you?" America mutters, wide-eyed.

Russia sighs.

"I am upset that I didn't know. But right now, that doesn't matter. I want to help you. What do you need?"

"I can't do much to fix it right now," America stammers, shock still in his voice, "I need to rest. I'll be okay after I get some sleep. I'm just... I don't want to be alone."

'Has no one asked you this before?'

"What do want me to do?"

"Just hold me. Please," America pleads.

Russia wraps him up in his arms and pulls him in. America curls up a little, bringing his arms and knees to his chest, and leans against Russia in the fetal position, shivering. Russia leans into the stiff pillows against the headboard.

"What are we going to do?" Russia asks.

America hums for a second before answering.

"I am going with you and the kids. You guys are not doing this by yourselves."

"You are ill."

"I don't care. I'm not leaving you guys to do this by yourselves."

"...I do not think that is a good idea."

"Well, we already got this far, and I am not backing out now."

"... will you be able to?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

Russia gives him a skeptical look.

"Hey, really. I'll be okay. I just need some rest," America insists, "I'm only like this now because of not getting enough sleep."

"If you are sure, then that is what we will do. But I do have a question."

"What?"

"The states say you do not normally sleep very much. How bad are you?"

"'How bad am I?'" America mimics with a laugh. Russia feels his face grow hot.

"You know what I mean."

America giggles a little before answering.

"The stuff that's been going on has been wearing me out. I'm just tired. Don't worry."

"If you don't worry about yourself, I will," Russia mutters into America's hair, "and you seem feverish."

"I'll be fine, okay? Listen, I'll stay back if I can't fight," America mumbles with a yawn.

Russia sighs before leaning back a little. He meets America's eyes.

They share a brief kiss. It brings butterflies to Russia's stomach and a smile to his face. America pulls away and gives him a loving smile.

"Thank you," America whispers before settling back against Russia, snuggling into his shirt. Russia holds him with one hand and gently brings the other one up and down America's back, moving his fingers along a pacifying, repetitive path.

Alabama pokes his head around the doorframe and gives Russia a curious look. Russia offers a small nod, and Alabama disappears back into the other room. Then, the television turns off and the teens flow into Russia's room, looking concerned.

"So, what's goin' on?" Alabama asks, perched on the edge of the other bed in the room.

"Your father is not feeling well," Russia replies, "conflict has been exhausting him."

"At least he ain't clingin' to one of us," Texas says, leaning against the headrest, his boots kicked up on the bed. New Mexico shoves his feet off.

"He only clings to you cuz you let him," Arizona remarks, bouncing in place in the middle of the bed and pointing at Texas. Texas blushes.

"Well, I couldn't just leave him sufferin'! I can't stand how sad he looks when he ain't with anybody," Texas replies defensively, crossing his arms, "besides, I ain't the only one who sits with him."

"Oh, will y'all stop?" Kentucky interjects, glaring at his siblings, "Dad does the same thing for us. All y'all sit with him when you're sick, even when Dad's busy with paperwork. I know Ari insists on being carried around when she ain't feeling so good, and most of y'all do too, so be quiet."

The states and Philippines calm down slightly, sitting on a bed together and turning on the television in front of them, turning down the volume. Russia moves his hand from America's back and begins to play with America's hair. 

"Does he make you stay with him?" Russia asks. 

'I don't think he would,' Russia thinks, as if to answer his own question, 'never.'

"Nah. Never. Most of the time, he wouldn't even ask. Most of us just kinda sit next to him and he'll let us go if we get up, but most of us feel bad if we leave," Wyoming admits, "it's just kinda annoying being stuck in place after you let him latch on. Honestly, I don't get how he can still get stuff down when one of us latches onto him." 

Russia hums.

'Hopefully, you start to feel better soon,' Russia thinks, watching America with admiration in his eyes, 'then I can yell at you for not telling me.'


	14. Reconsile

Russia relaxes back against the bed and fights back a yawn. He stares down at America, who sleeps soundly with tinted sunlight filtering through the curtains and onto his face. It illuminates his face in a way Russia couldn't describe.

Dumbstruck, Russia tenderly brushes a few strands of wet hair off America's face.

He tries to memorize the image.

America's cheeks are still flush with fever, but he had stopped shivering, which is relieving. Russia looks up again as a thought strikes him, snapping out of his daze, and he grabs his bag. He pulls it to his side and begins digging through it, looking for the little arctic fox he had taken to calling Katya. He pulls it carefully out of his bag and cradles it in his free hand.

The little thing sits in his palm, and he pets it with his thumb. The plush animal is fuzzy and white. Its eyes smile.

"Hey, what's that?" Arizona asks, pointing to Russia's hand.

"A little fox America gave me," Russia replies with a small smile.

"It's cute," Philippines comments.

"Yes, it is," Russia agrees, smiling.

'Maybe I could put it in my hat.'

He pulls his hat off his head and finds that only one of the pockets opens anymore. The stitching on the patch closed the second pocket. He shrugs.

'The patch looks nice. I don't use that pocket for much anyway.'

He tucks the plush animal into the right pocket, and its head peeks out from under the flap of the pocket. Then, one of the burner phones begins to ring. Philippines grabs it and fumbles for a second before answering.

"Hello?...Hi Dixie...Yeah, I'll hand it over to Russia...Papa is sleeping," Philippines says before handing Russia the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi Ruski. I was just checking in. How's everything going so far?"

"It is alright. We are stuck in a motel, and America is ill, but everyone is alright."

"Stuck in a motel?"

"Some things outside are waiting for us to open the door."

"Oh. Anything else?"

"America is sleeping right now."

"He has been actin' weird, right?"

"Yes. Conflict between his people and his government."

"God help him. Will he be alright?"

"He says he will be, but he is feverish. I worry for him."

"And thank the Lord you do, because I can't be there to do it for him."

"He says he'll be fine with more sleep."

"Did he sleep last night?"

"No. The knocking started an hour after we arrived."

"Well, sleep would do him some good. But y'all should try to leave by around noon. York-y says the place y'all stopped at is pretty sketchy, and y'all shouldn't be staying there for long."

"Okay."

"And you should probably call your dad if you haven't already."

"What?"

"'m sure Amy would be buggin' you about it if he wasn't sleepin', and if you're gonna be stuck for a while, so you should do it while you can. Sides, I'm getting kinda tired of taking calls from your family. Ain't no understandin' 'em when they're angry."

Before Russia can respond there is shuffling and a distance shout of "No! Sett!"

"Tell New Hamshire I said 'F*** YOU!'" Massachusetts shouts into the phone before cackling and the phone is audibly snatched out of his hands.

"Sorry 'bout the Mass-hole," New York says, an annoyed tone in his voice, "also, Oregon says hi."

"Tell him I say hello," Russia responds with a chuckle, "and tell Dixie that I agree and will call my family."

"You betta. They're some angry b******s," New York replies.

Russia opens his mouth to retort, but the call ends. He sighs and shakes his head with a good-natured smile. He pulls the phone away and dials the number for his father's home phone. It rings for a few moments before someone picks up.

"Hi! Who are you?" Alaska says. It startles Russia a little, but it does make him happy to know Alaska is okay.

"Hello, little one. It's Russia."

Alaska gasps. "YOU'RE OKAY! 'waii said you might not wake up."

"Yes, I am alright. Could you bring the phone to Soviet?"

"Yeah!" Alaska chirps, "Grandpa! Russia's calling! I think he's in his office."

Then he can hear her running through the house and kicking open the office door with a thud.

"Russia wants to talk to you."

There are some muffled noises as the phone is handed off.

"Hello?" Soviet says.

"Hi, Papa."

"Have you come to your senses?"

"I am not coming home. I can't."

"Why not?"

"They need me here. America's home has been ransacked and his country is dealing with a lot of turmoil. I need to stay here."

"That would not keep you from getting a plane ticket."

Russia feels annoyance bubble up his throat, but looking down at America causes it to fade. He takes a deep breath before continuing.

"It's dangerous for you to be there Russia," Soviet insists, "I know New York mentioned that you were getting close with America, but that is not a good reason to put yourself in danger."

"I'm already in danger!" Russia shouts before sighing, "Sorry. I should not be shouting. I am already here, and I'm with America and some of his children. We are trying to figure out what's going on and why. I'm not going to leave them without help and on the run. America can't trust his own government, and it puts his entire family in danger. Besides, we don't have enough money for a plane ticket. They are tracking us by paper trail and potentially by phone locations. It's too risky."

Soviet sighs.

"I'm sorry Papa, but I can't leave them. Not now. I won't let America or any of his states get hurt."

"I do not think this is a good idea."

"I have already made my decision."

"Fine," Soviet bites out, "but you will relay any information you find to me."

"Yes, Papa."

"Goodbye, Russia. Stay safe. Tell me if anything happens. You will come home safe."

"Okay, Papa. I will."

Russia hangs up the phone and sits back with a sigh.

"Texas! Give me the remote!" California shrieks.

"No! You already had your turn."

"You're just hogging the TV!"

California grabs Texas's arm and tries to wrestle it out of his hands. Texas falls back and carefully tries to kick her off. Russia sighs.

"Either give it to me or fight back!" California says.

"No! I don't want to hurt you!"

"I can fight you! Don't underestimate me!"

"I ain't hitting a girl!"

"Stop," Russia says, but the teens ignore him.

"Stop! Stop fighting! I will take the remote," Russia threatens.

California scowls and Texas smirks. California climbs off and crosses her arms. Texas holds the remote above his head with a proud smile.

"D***head," California sneers. Texas grins.

"Give it to New Hampshire," Russia demands, and Texas glares at him. Russia scowls right back.

"Fine," Texas grumbles, handing the remote over with a grimace. 

Russia sighs and returns his attention to America, who had begun shivering. He pulls America up to his chest and holds him up by his shoulders. America begins to thrash against him, and pushes away. America sits up and gasps, his eyes wide. Russia offers his hands but gives America some space to calm down.

America takes a few shuddering breaths.

"They're okay. See, they are alright," Russia says, waving to the teens watching from the other bed.

America's head whips around and Russia watches as America scans them over for injuries. He turns back and stares down at Russia's hands. He reaches forward with shaky hands and takes them in a tight grip.

Russia takes deep breaths and America tries to copy him. America's shaky breathing finally calms down and he leans forward against Russia.

"Sorry for hitting you," America mumbles.

"It's okay. Everything is okay," Russia says reassuringly, "I'm here, they're here, everyone is here and okay."

"I know. I know," America mumbles.

They sit quietly together for a few moments before America begins to move closer to the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?" Russia asks curiously.

"Gonna see if those 'kids' are still there," America replies, pulling back a curtain. After a moment of peaking out the window, he drops the curtain.

"Russ, could you move the shelves back?" America asks, "They're gone. At least for now. Kids, start getting ready to go, okay?"

The teens nod and Russia walks forward and moves the shelves back to their original places. America tries to lift one of the mattresses, but Texas has to help lift it so New Mexico and Mississippi could retrieve the firearms and money hidden. 

Russia opens the door and helps Philippines and Alabama pack luggage into the back of the truck. Wyoming trails behind them and begins snacking on some of the food in Delaware's car.

They finish packing up around 10:00 AM, and Russia takes one last look in the rooms for anything they may have forgotten. After looking through the bathrooms, under the bed, and flipping the mattresses, he collects a few stray socks belonging to the states before he walks out and sits in the driver's seat, and America sleeps in the passenger seat, one hand on the center console. Russia pulls out and Texas follows shortly behind. California takes the map, and she and Kentucky navigate Russia toward Denver.

They stop for gas an hour later, and Russia goes into a nearby fast-food restaurant to get food, drinks, and a few treats for the kids. He hands out the refreshments to the teens waiting in the car and truck. Then he gently shakes America awake.

"What's going on?" America mumbles.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" Russia asks.

"I've been better."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah."

Russia reaches in and places a hand on America's forehead. 

'At least his fever broke.'

"I got some food for everyone. Do you want some?"

"Yeah, please," America replies, sitting up and accepting it with a grateful smile.

He scarfs it down and grins. 

"Thank you. It's definitely better than the snacks we've got in the cars," America says with a smile.

Russia drives through the afternoon and into the evening without incident, America snoozing away in the passenger seat. Russia was admittedly getting tired from the driving and the lack of sleep last night, so it came as a relief that America woke up when the sun began to set and stayed up to keep him company through the night.

"When Ari was little, she used to sneeze flames. Flames!" America exclaims his hands in the air.

"Really?" Arizona asks enthusiastically.

"Yes. You won't believe how much paperwork I had to replace because of it," America says with a laugh.

"I was never close to any of my states. I'd meet with them occasionally, but only for political matters," Russia says with a shrug.

"Dad found most of us, right Dad?" Kentucky adds.

"Yup. You guys were a handful. Almost all of you were babies when I found you, and let me tell you, watching a dozen toddlers at once," America says, directing the last part to Russia with a smirk.

"How'd you find us?" Arizona asks.

"I thought I already told you this story."

"Well, I want to hear it again."

"Well, I've got a bit of a sense for it, I guess," America says with a shrug, "I guess it's kinda like I got a metal detector and compass in my head. I know the direction to look and relatively how close I am. I'd be riding horseback for days trying to bring you guys home safe."

Russia smiles, admiring his determination.

'I am so happy you are feeling better.'


	15. Cheshire Grin

A few hours after sun-set, Russia hears the disposable phone ringing from the glove box. He leans over and pulls the glovebox open. He pulls it out and answers.

"Hello?"

"Hey Russ, it's York. Just wanted to let you guys know that the hotel rooms were put under the name Ivan Chernov, and you may have to be the one getting keys. Your father was able to pay for it because they didn't take cash. Apparently, he didn't like what happened at the motel."

"Okay. Thank you," Russia says, and New York hums.

"How's everything going?"

"It's alright. I think America is feeling better."

"That's good," New York says with relief, "I was really f***ing worried. It's also good that you are staying in a hotel. You're a lot less likely to be attacked. It's also good to hear that you're getting better too."

Russia nods.

"How are the other states doing?"

"They are as good as they could be. It's stressful, but we will be okay."

"Also, you can take pictures with the phone. They aren't good quality, of f***in' course, but it could be useful. Text pictures of whatever you find if you can't take it with you."

"How do you take pictures?"

"Tuck will figure it out if you give him the phone before you leave for the base. Don't get yourselves killed," New York says before hanging up. 

Russia chuckles and tosses the phone back into the glove box. His hand brushes America's leg and he looks over with a smile. Russia yawns and refocuses on the road, listening to America's humming, enjoying his quiet company. America smiles and takes his hand. Russia squeezes his hand with a smile. 

They arrive a little after 2 AM. Outside is dark, and a cold wind whips around them. Russia's breath comes in puffs of white and he shivers. America walks behind him and hugs him around the waist. Russia smiles but pulls away.

"We need to get inside," Russia says, and America pouts. 

"But you're shivering."

"I can't walk if you attached to me."

"Hmpf..."

Russia gathers his bag and a sachel and the others follow him into the lobby.

"Hello!" the clerk chirps, "are you here to rent out a room?"

"Yes," Russia replies, "I have rooms under the name 'Ivan Chernov.'"

"Ohh! I like the accent! How long are you staying?"

"It should only be a few days."

"Alrighty. Well, here's your keys. Y'all will be in rooms 206, 207, and 208. How you have a good rest of your night!"

"Thank you," Russia says, taking the cards and walking into the elevator. 

"Whose going to what room?"

"Russia and I are taking Tuck and Ari. Cali can go with New Hampshire, Philip, and Wyoming. Tex, you're going with New Mex, Al, and Sippi. Behave yourselves. If you want to go get breakfast, everyone has to go together. We shouldn't see anything while we're here, but everyone has to be careful," America warns.

"Okay Dad," Texas says.

"Will do," Califonia says.

The elevator opens and they walk quickly to their rooms at the end of the hall. Russia walks in with America right behind him with Kentucky and Arizona walk in and Russia falls back onto the bed. America falls on top of him.

"Hey," Russia complains.

"Hooolllddd meee," America whines playfully. Russia groans and rolls over, grabbing America and rolling over. America falls to the bed laughing. Russia wraps his arms around America and snuggles into the back. America grabs his arms and pulls him close. Russia begins drifting off.

~

Russia is running. But he can't run fast enough. Nothing looks right. 

Something cackles behind him and he tries to run faster. But the ground gives way and it crumbles. He tumbles through the air. He hits water. It's not as cold as it should be. He tries to swim to the surface, but the surface gets further and further away. He gasps. He can breathe.

Suddenly, he's on a set of stairs, and he tries to run down, but it doesn't end and it all starts to tip over like a game of dominos. He scrambles down them. 

"You can't escape!" a female voice taunts from behind him.

"Russia!" America screams from the bottom of the stairs. Russia reaches out to grab his hand, but the step falls, and America is yanked into a doorway by shadowy hands. Russia tries to scream but finds he can't.

He hears a scream from behind him. He spins around. He's standing in a room with no doors, and a faceless woman holds Alaska by her neck. Alaska screams. The women cackles.

~

Russia's eyes shoot open and he tries to calm his breathing. He's in bed, right where he had fallen asleep, arms still wrapped around America.

'Nightmare.'

He tightens his grip and looks down. At some point, America had turned, and Russia stares down at his features. He looks relaxed. Russia tries to will his heartbeat to slow down

It's still dark outside, and everyone else in the room is sleeping still. Russia lets out a sigh of relief. He ignores the roaring of blood in his ears and relaxed against the stiff pillows.

Then, there is a knock on the window. Russia freezes. He stares at the curtains. They had been closed to block out the street lights outside. Russia slowly gets up and America mumbles before rolling over.

Another knock, louder this time. It's against the glass.

Russia backs off the bed, watching the curtains. He grabs the phone from the nightstand and begins to move. He steps back onto the floor and slowly walks forward, the cheap carpet scratches the bottom of his feet. The crack between the curtains gives a sliver of harsh, yellow light.

He flips open the phone and shines the light from the screen on the floor under the window and along the connected wall.

Nothing.

Russia grabs the edges of the curtain with shaky hands and forces his eyes open. He takes a deep breath and yanks them open. The tops get stuck, but it opens enough to bathe the room with an artificial yellow glow.

He doesn't see anything through the triangular opening. He hurriedly pulls the curtains completely open and flinches as the harsh light invades the room. There is nothing in the curtains or against the wall, and all he can see out the window is a parking lot with a few trees and roads around it.

"Russ..?" America mumbles, "what's going on? Why'd you open that?"

"I heard something," Russia whispers.

"Heard what?" America asks, rubbing his face.

"It sounded like knocking against the window," Russia whispers, crawling on the floor with the open phone. He lifts the flaps under the bed, but still nothing. There couldn't be anything under it. There is only a 12 cm. difference between the end of the mattress and where the box spring touches the ground. 

Russia stands back up and looks at America for his reaction.

"I don't hear anything," America says, "are you sure it wasn't part of some dream?"

"The first knock maybe, but not the second. But I know I heard something."

"Well, where was it coming from?" America asks, sitting up.

"The window."

America gets up and walks around the room with him and opens the bathroom, turning on the light. It turns off soon after and America walks out, shaking his head.

"Nothin' in there," he says, shutting the door behind him. 

"It sounded like it was coming from outside," Russia whispers.

"Did you see anything outside?"

"No, but I heard something."

Then, another knock, and Russia spins around. He freezes in place. A pair of eyes stare back at him surrounded by a large circle of black.

A grin cracks open up from the dark smug in the bottom left corner of the window. Its eyes are too small and close together and gleam a dull greenish-yellow. Its smile causes Russia's blood to run cold. An ear to ear grin. If it had lips, they had been bitten through, and its teeth shined a dull whiteish red. It watches with sadistic amusement.

Russia races around the bed, ignoring America's questions, to try to get a better look. It slinks out of the window's view.

"*What the F*** was that?! What the f*** was that? Where did it go?!*" Russia mutters, holding his head.

"What did you see?" America asks, anxious.

Russia jumps a good meter in the air before recognizing America's voice.

"*I don't know.* It looked wrong."

"We should gather the kids and move to a different room," America suggests.

"Room 207 is across the hall," Russia suggests.

"What's going on?" Arizona asks.

"We say something and think we should probably hang out with your siblings across the hall," America replies. Arizona groans and scowls at them, but doesn't fight.

Russia pulls the curtain closed and grabs the room keys. He and America shove bags and tired children alike out into the hallway to the other room. Russia turns on the bathroom light to see and Texas sits up, staring bleary-eyed at them.

"Wha's goin' on?" Texas mumbles, squinting at them. 

"Something was stalking us on the other side of the building. We're moving everyone over here," America says, herding Arizona and Kentucky inside. Texas yawns.

"Come on in then," Texas mumbles, falling back onto the pillows.

Arizona and Kentucky stumble to the closest bed.

"Hey, Sippi?"

"Hmm?"

"Can Tuck and I get in with you and Bama?"

"Mhm."

Mississippi moves over slightly and tossing the end of the blanket back. Arizona and Kentucky crawl in and fall asleep as soon as they settle back in. Alabama looks unbothered. It's a tight squeeze, but none of them seemed to care too much. 

America pulls Russia to 208 to wake up and move its inhabitants. Philippines wakes up easily and helps gather luggage. California glares at them and Wyoming stands around with a glazed look. New Hampshire crosses her arms.

"What the f*** is going on that we have to get up and move rooms?" New Hampshire demands.

"Something was watching us from outside and I want everyone in one room," America explains.

New Hampshire grumbles and crosses her arms. California scoffs. 

"I think we should go then," Wyoming mutters, "because that don't sound good."

"But I hate sharing a bed with that many people..." California whines, crossing her arms, "fine, let's go. But I am not sharing with Texas."

California ends up between Mississippi and Arizona. Philippines stands with Russia and America and Texas and New Mexico accommodate Wyoming and New Hampshire. Russia watches them curl up together and can't help the small smile that stretches across his face.

'Cute kids.'

"I'm taking the chair," Philippines mumbles, stumbling over and collapsing into it, curling up.

America sighs and sits on the floor against the wall next to the beds.

"Could you turn off the light?" Kentucky asks.

Russia walks over and flicks the switch off, closing the door.

"Thanks," Kentucky mumbles into the mattress. Russia waits a moment for his eyes to adjust before sitting down beside America.

"I honestly expected more arguments," America mutters, "they're probably too tired at this point

They sit in silence for a while, but Russia doesn't mind. America leans his head on Russia's shoulder. Eventually, Philippines slowly rises out of the chair and collapses onto the end of the further bed face down.

America chuckles. "Those chairs aren't comfortable," he comments in a knowing tone.

"At least we're all together now," America mumbles. Russia hums in agreement, quietly watching the window, waiting for a noise to erupt from it. America seemed to be trying to do the same. 

'At least I'm not alone here.'


	16. Late Morning

Russia tries his best to stay awake but isn't having much luck. Not getting more than an hour of sleep for 48 hours is a challenge he hadn't faced in a long time, and he's still healing from being frozen. America had fallen asleep against his shoulder, making his side warm. 

'I have to stay awake and ready in case something happens.'

He doesn't feel very ready. Or well. His head keeps falling forward, and his pounding headache is surrounded by the fuzz. He yanks his head back up, trying to shake himself awake. It's getting harder and harder to think, let alone keep his eyes open.

He takes America's hand. His head falls forward against his chest and he jerks it back up again. His head pulses and he groans.

"Are you okay?" Philippines asks, sitting up.

"Tired," Russia slurs.

"I can't go back to sleep after waking up, so I can stay up and keep watch."

"Mmmmm..."

Russia's eyes fall and his head falls against America's. Philippines says something. The words sound almost familiar, but he doesn't understand any of them. 

The world fades away to black.

Russia wakes up to sunlight and talking. His senses slowly return and he finds himself tucked in on one of the beds, his head laying on something warm. He relaxed and hears America talking above him. It also felt like America was threading fingers through his hair.

Russia cuddles into America's lap, and he curls up a little, wrapping his arms around America's leg, nuzzling it, searching for warmth. America pauses before laughing quietly and continuing to brush through his hair.

"Hey big guy," America says playfully, "you awake?"

Russia decided not to answer. America giggles.

"I'll take that as a no," America says with a laugh.

'Warm. Very warm. Feels nice.'

He feels comfortable and relaxed. Cared for. The fuzzy feelings almost make him feel like he's flying.

'I wonder how I ended up on the bed.'

'It doesn't matter.'

'Meri is sweet. Very sweet.'

Sleepy thoughts swirl through his head.

'He makes me feel warm.'

'I like to feel warm. Love warm. And fuzzy.'

'Love him...' the flitting though floats through his mind.

'Love him?' he wonders briefly.

'I love him,' Russia realizes. It felt warm. It felt right.

'I love him,' Russia thinks, and butterflies flutter in his stomach. 

"You're adorable," America says, taking Russia's hand in his own and pressing it to his face, kissing the back of it.

The room sounds quiet. The TV plays faintly in the background. 

"I wonder when the kids are gonna get back," America mutters, "they should be back soon."

Then there is a single knock and then the door opens with chatter.

"Pancakes!" Texas exclaims, showing off a stake of plates covered in pancakes, almost spilling them onto the floor.

"The pancake machine took forever," New Mexico adds. 

America laughs. Russia's stomach grumbles, and he mentally curses.

'How dare you ruin my cover.'

"Come on, now I know you're awake," America says, gently shoving at his shoulder.

Russia sits up and mumbles, his face grows warm. A plate is shoved into his hands with a fork and several things he couldn't identify. He stares at the plate for a second and America laughs.

"Yeah, it's all pretty fake, but it's edible and tastes okay, so eat up," America says.

"I brought oatmeal to make if ya can't stomach what you got," Texas volunteers.

Russia shrugs and began eating. It's not bad, he figures. America turns to him with a grin, a piece of bacon sticking out of his mouth. Russia turns back and takes a bite off the piece before turning back to his own plate. He only looked up again when he heard the others around him giggling into their food.

He looks up and sees America staring with wide eyes and red-faced. Russia smirks and leans in. He kisses America again and successfully takes the rest of the bacon. He pulls back and chews on it, giving America a proud grin. America stares with his mouth agape and his face bright red.

"I win," Russia says with a smirk.

America sputters. Texas begins laughing and is shortly joined by Philippines and New Mexico. Alabama and Mississippi just sit back, looking a little confused, but supportive.

"I- you can't -Russ????" America sputters.

Russia leans over and gives him a quick kiss on the lips, leaving America speechless. 

"Looks like we finally found a way to get Dad to be quiet," New Hampshire comments, causing uproarious laughter.

Russia feels pride swell in his chest. He looks over at America and smiles again. America pouts and scowls at Russia. Russia laughs and kisses him on the forehead before going back to his face. America shoves his shoulder, mumbling about making him embarrass himself, and Russia laughs. 

'I love you,' Russia thinks, looking at America in his peripheral vision. America stares down at his plate with red cheeks and a smile that he tries in vain to hide. Russia beams with pride, though he tries to hide it. 

He pulls himself out of his thoughts and hears the states talking among themselves. 

"I'm happy Dad's happy," Texas says, shoving more breakfast food into his mouth.

"Does this mean that Russia gonna be our step-dad?" Alabama asks.

"I think he's Alaska's actual dad," Wyoming says, pointing a fork at Alabama.

"Huh," Mississippi says, "really?"

"Yeah," Philippines says, "I think so."

"Besides, why step-dad? Why not call him something like Papa," California says with a shrug, "besides, Dad adopted us, why would this be any different?"

Russia feels his thoughts skid to a stop. 

"Don't know if we're there yet," New Mexico says tentatively.

"Yeah Cali," Texas says smugly.

"Shut up Tex," California says. 

"Sides, is he even dad's boyfriend yet?" Alabama asks.

"I don't know. Hey Dad," New Hampshire asks.

"Yeah?" America says.

"Is Russia your boyfriend?" she asks.

"Uhhh..."

"Yes," Russia answers, giving America an experimental smile. America gives him a wide grin.

"Yay," America says happily, hugging Russia into his side. 

"I have a boyfriend," America says in a sing-song voice, tucking himself into Russia's side.

Russia leans his head against America's. 

'Boyfriend,' Russia thinks, feeling giddy.

'How will my father react?' Russia thinks a sinking feeling fills his stomach.

'He didn't seem to care before, but...'

Russia finds he really doesn't want to think about it. He turns his attention back to the states' conversations.

"What are we going to do?" Kentucky asks.

"What do you mean? Like with the base?" New Mexico says.

"Yeah, what's the plan?" Kentucky replies.

"We should investigate the area to find an entrance," California says

"But how are we gonna get in?" Arizona says.

"Do you think they fixed the hole we made?" Alabama says, excited.

"I don't know," Mississippi says with a shrug, "we did a lot of damage."

"Do you think they would try to hide it?" New Hampshire asks.

"Probably. I don't think every part of my government is involved, but right now, I don't think I can trust any of them. The guilty ones would probably try to cover it up," America answers. 

Russia reaches his arm around and rubs America's arm. 

"Thanks," America says quietly. 

"I'm here," Russia whispers.

"Thank you," America mutters, tilting his head up and kissing Russia's cheek.

"We'll leave tomorrow morning back to where you guys broke in and we'll see if we can find a way in. I'm under the impression they may have abandoned it after the location was found, but we'll have to see," announces America.

"What are we going to do today?" Kentucky asks.

"Just rest, prepare, and we might also get some supplies in case we have to dig anything out or climb to get into the base," America says.

Texas turns on the TV and switches to cartoons. This time, the siblings don't fight. At least, not verbally.

"We should go check our room," America suggests.

Russia nods and stands up, helping America to his feet. America grins, and they walk hand in hand to the door.

"We will be right back," America says over his shoulder, "we're just going to make sure nothing happened to the other rooms."

"Okay," Philippines says, waving them off, "I'll keep an eye on them."

"I don't need supervision," Texas protests.

America sighs and shakes his head with a fond smile on his face. Russia holds America's hand tightly, readying himself to enter the room, as images of the creature from last night flash in his vision. He pauses in front of the door and America squeezes his hand.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm here," America says comfortingly, rubbing his thumb on the back of Russia's hand. Russia takes a shaky breath and unlocks the door. He slowly pulls the door open and walks inside, pulling America in behind him.

At first glance, nothing seems wrong. The beds are still a mess from their exit the night before, and America leans over to pick up some of the discarded clothes on the floor.

Then movement catches his attention. Something moves outside the window. Russia stiffens.

"What? Is everything okay?" America asks.

"Saw something outside," Russia mumbles. 

America pulls away and hands off the clothes to Russia. He slowly walks forward and Russia watches him grab the curtains and pull them open. Nothing but a brightly lit parking lot.

"It's gone," America says. 

"I think we should all stay in the same room," Russia says, a little shaky. 

"Definitely," America agrees before falling quiet.

"Do you think something was sent after us?" America asks quietly.

"I don't know. *I don't know,*" Russia mumbles.

'I wish I did.'

America sighs.

"Let's at least grab toiletries to bring back," America suggests, beginning to turn around.

However, before America can fully turn around, something seems to catch his attention. America spins around and stares at the window with narrow eyes. Russia turns to it as well but doesn't see anything.

"*What happened?*"

"I saw movement."

Russia walks back to the window and his hair stands on end.

'We're being watched.'

He pulls the curtains closed and breathes a sigh of relief as soon as he manages to pull them shut. His heart continues to race, and he looks around the room for anything else that would cause his hair-raising fear.

"Yup, somethings definitely watching us," America comments, his tone annoyed with a frightened undertone. 

"Let's finish in here and the other room so we can go back with the kids," America says shakily.

There is nothing amiss in the other room, but Russia still feels uncomfortable here.

"I want to go back," Russia mumbles.

"Me too," America whispers back.

They quietly return to the other room where the kids are waiting and fall back.

"You guys look spooked. Did something happen?"

"Just feels like something was watching us from the windows in the other rooms," America explains, hugging Russia. Russia leans into him and nods in agreement. 

"Well, we should probably start getting ready for tomorrow," America suggests with a smile, "we'll leave in a few hours to get more supplies before we leave, but we have to stay together." 

"Maybe we can even get food," Texas says with a smile.

"Sounds good to me," America says with a smile, "but for now, let's try to rest and catch up on missed sleep."

"That sounds like a good plan," Philippines agrees, a mischievous glint in his eye, "then we can figure out how to make them pay for what they're doing."


	17. Vengence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic around every corner can have its consequences.

Russia's heart races as they approach a large crater in the ground. He pulls over and gets out carefully, dawning his newly-acquired winter coat to protect against the dropping temperatures of the outside. It's early in the morning with the sun having just barely risen. The pit has been haphazardly filled with dirt and filler. If you had not known what it was, it would've just looked like a strange pit.

Russia takes a deep breath and roots through the bed of the truck for his weapon, a large flashlight. It's pretty heavy, but with the batteries, he could also use it as what it is. It's much more heavy-duty than the ones they had used for the caves, Russia made sure of it. He also pockets a spring action pocket knife he had gotten from a sketchy vendor outside the store.

'Something doesn't feel right.'

Russia shakes off the thought, approaching the muddy, icy pit.

"We'll hold back for now," Texas announces, "Dad, you got the walkie?"

"Yup."

"Alright. Let us know if y'all need help. We'll be out of sight."

"To surprise 'em," New Mexico adds with a grin.

America smiles and waves them off. As soon as they leave, America's face falls.

"Is everything okay?" Russia asks, reaching out a hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine," America replies, drawing away from him. Russia drops his hand and nods.

"How are we gonna get down there?" Kentucky mutters.

"Are you kidding? Move outa my way, Keny-boy," Arizona says with a smile. She puts her hands forward and focuses on something.

Suddenly, the ice begins to melt. California begins to dig, but not for long. She treks down, the shovel over her shoulder, and slides to a stop at the bottom. At the bottom, many of the broken tiles left behind from their last visit are a little dirty, but still visible. Only one side had really been filled in, Russia notes. There is still access to some of the rest of the building, including the offices connected to the room they stood in.

"They really didn't do a good job, huh," California comments.

America watches Kentucky as they slide down the side of the muddy wall. Russia follows shortly behind. Something in the air feels electric, but America doesn't comment, so Russia tries his best to ignore it for now.

Shortly after entering, Russia notices that America begins to act strangely. He looks bothered, but Russia can't place why. He begins looking around until he hears America whimper.

"America?"

America's eyes swivel around, staring at Russia. 

They don't look right.

Russia steps back, his arm out, herding the states back.

"Russ?" Kentucky says.

"Something's wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Hide. All of you," Russia demands, slowing backing them up to the back offices in the room, "collect what you can, but don't come out until I say."

"NO!" America screeches, and grey-ish black faintly surrounds him, concentrating around his eyes.

The states scatter, giving Russia one last look of concern and confusion before disappearing behind closed doors.

America begins stalking toward Russia, tears streaming down his face and growling.

"How DARE YOU!" He shrieks.

Russia jumps back. 

"HOW DARE YOU KI-HURT MY CHILDREN?!" America screams, his voice cracking. 

'Oh no.'

Amerca charges, slamming Russia into a nearby wall.

'Illusions. It has to be.'

Russia falls limp for a moment, hitting the ground and bolting away from America, who punches a crater into the wall he had been pinned against.

"America?" Russia asks.

"YOU MONSTER!"

Americ grabs him by his collar and slings him across the room. He slams into the wall and America raises his hand, summoning his scythe.

"Please! America, whatever you see, it's not real!" Russia shouts.

America continues his approach and Russia scrambles away from the encroaching blade of the scythe.

"LIAR!!" America shrieks, waterfalls fall from his face.

'I have to fight him. I have to, or I might end up dead.'

"How dare you hurt my CHILDREN and then be too much of a coward to face me?!" America screams, spins the scythe, and swinging the butt of it as Russia. Russia jumps away from the attack.

"The states are okay!" Russia insists, before having the wind knocked out of him by a heavy blow to the stomach.

Then the world turns a blinding bright blue. It looks like battery acid. 

It pricks at his skin. 

Russia flies backward, and hits the dirt wall hard, dropping his light. The flashlight rolls away and America runs forward, his angry, grief-ridden scream fills the air.

'I don't want to hurt him.'

America gives a look filled with bloodlust as he sprints forward. Russia's heart stops. 

'I don't have a choice.'

He reaches for the knife and forces back the tears gathering in his eyes. 

'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'

He whips the knife out. He rolls out of the range of the scythe. America strikes the wall and spins around, growling. He tries to pull his weapon free from the wall before just dropping it, instead charging at Russia. Russia catches his fist in one hand and slashes at him with the other. 

Russia can't look at America's face as he does. 

America screams in agony and falls back, holding his face. Russia rushes for the light, but before Russia can reach it, America grabs him and yanks him up. 

Russia's eyes shoot open and he sees America and the damage he'd done. America's right eye is bloody and wrong and the area around it had deep carvings. Blood pours out of the wounds, and the eye itself looks unfocused.

'Oh my god. What have I done?'

America manages to wrestle the knife away from him in his regret ridden haze and slashes at his face. Russia cries out and tries to pull away. 

The hit had missed his eyes, but just barely. It went from his upper cheek to right through his upper lip. Blood gushes from his face. 

"America," he forces, trying not to scream at the pain that pulses from his lip, "Stop. Please. They're okay!"

"You're lying!" America wails.

"It's magic!" Russia insists.

America throws him back and delivers a hefty kick to his gut, sending him into the building under the existing ceiling. It's darker here.

"Please," Russia begs, spattering blood with every word, and he can feel the damage getting worse, "check. It's magic, Meri. Please."

The words get more and more mangled. 

'Please.'

'I didn't want to hurt you.'

'Please, the states need you!'

'Please.'

Tears make their presence known, streaming down Russia's face. He can't bring himself to look at America's eyes. Or eye. He swallows back the almost overwhelming guilt and feels his chest quiver with suppressed cries.

'I'll deal with it later. I have to get America back for the states. Then, maybe then I can disappear.'

Russia forces his focus to go to America's eyes, and he's overwhelmed by the urge to puke.

'What have I done?'

"I'm going to be the last thing you see, you imposter."

"It magic!" Russia insists, ignoring the blood that coats his tongue, "please stop! It's tricks! States are okay! States are okay!"

Russia spits the excess of blood that gathered in his mouth and sees America reeling back with the scythe. America's hateful glare of his working eye freezes Russia in place.

America misses, swiping in front of Russia by what seems like a miscalculation. America snarls and steps forward and swipes again. Russia catches it by the handle right before it hits his neck.

"You're being tricked!" Russia screams desperately, shoving away the blade, "You're being tricked!"

"Daddy! Stop!" Arizona begs from out of one of the nearby offices. America's glare flickers into a look of confusion and hurt before returning with twice the fury.

America pulls away from Russia and rushes at Arizona.

"Ari! NO!" Russia screams, running forward.

Russia just manages to get between them as America swipes at her, taking a heavy hit to the stomach and chest. His jacket spits open and is immediately soaked with blood.

"Hide!" Russia demands, leaning over and holding his stomach, "*God d*** it*, HIDE!"

Arizona scurries away, looking terrified. 

Russia turns his attention back to America, who stares with an eye full of confusion and hurt.

Russia feels dizzy, but he pushes it down. He stumbles forward to America.

"Please, it's an illusion. You're scaring them," Russia says, his words slurred and distorted. He feels his face ripping itself apart with every movement. America snarls and charges, Russia steps back and holds up one arm to protect his face, not that it would do much.

Russia closes his eyes, tense and ready for another hit.

It never came.

He opens his eyes and watches America's feet.

"Russ?" America whispers shakily, the bloody scythe dissipating, "what was I about to do?"

Russia tries to answer, but with his focus on trying to breathe, he doesn't know what to say.

He makes the mistake of looking up at America's face and nausea hits him again. 

America's blood. His eye. The blood Russia had been swallowing. The pain.

'I hurt him. I hurt him. Ihurthim. Ihurthim.'

Russia wretches and vomits. 

Tears, blood, and acid mix on the tile floor.

Absolutely foul.

Russia straightens himself as much as he can and jumps back when he sees America approaching. America reaches out and grasps his shoulder, looking confused and worried. Guilt slams into Russia's chest and he yanks his shoulder out of America's hands.

'No. I hurt you.'

'I hurt you.'

Russia withdraws away from America, trying desperately trying to keep from turning around and just running. Blood seeps through his fingers. He turns to face the offices.

"It's over," Russia gurgles as loudly as he can manage.

The states slowly emerge and California shrieks. 

Arizona begins crying, and Kentucky stands frozen, clutching arm-fulls of papers and documents. 

"Tuck," Russia pants, gathering as much control as he could, "go put that in the truck."

Kentucky scrambles away and up the dirt mound with a teary Arizona on his tail. California forces Russia down and begins to examine him, pulling out a pair of rubber gloves sealed in a small plastic bag from her bag. She rips them open and shoves them on, prodding at his midsection. She sighs.

"It'll scar, but it isn't going to kill you," California says, "at least, not immediately."

"Help America," Russia chokes.

"What? No! Your injuries are a lot more serious!" California protests.

Russia shakes his head. "America first."

"Will you stop talking! You're making your lip worse!" 

Russia tries to pull away, but California forces him onto his back. 

"The more you struggle, the longer it will be until I can get to Dad," California hisses, "stay still."

Russia relents, and she begins pulling his wound together with butterfly bandages before wrapping his whole midsection in gauze. Then she gives him some absorbent bandages and tells him to hold pressure on the injuries on his face. Russia numbly sits up and follows her instructions. 

"Dad?!" Texas shouts from above.

"Are y'all okay?!" Alabama shouts gun in hand. Philippines slides down, medkit in hand. California snatches it from him without a word. 

Russia watches as she wraps America's head, completely covering his eye and the area around it, and pangs of guilt wrack his heart.

'You were being tricked.'

'You thought you were protecting your family.'

'I hurt you.'

'I hurt you.'

Russia stares down at his hands and sees water begin to fall on them. The sky is clear.

'I'm crying.'

He inhales sharply and swallows back sobs.

'I destroyed your eye.'

'I hurt you'

'I'm sorry.'

'I'm so sorry.'

The dizzy feeling overtakes the crushing guilt and he feels himself sway. He tries to fight it, but the world fades to black.


	18. Apologies

The world is moving. It takes Russia a moment to realize this. He feels woozy and still half asleep, so he doesn't make an effort to move just yet. His stomach and chest burn and his face pulses. Muffled talking surrounds him, and he realizes he's being carried by one of the states up the stairs.

'Where am I? Where am I going?' he thinks, his thoughts muddled by pain.

Eventually, he's put down on something soft and he opens his eyes. He fights to sit up and he stares off into space.

He finds himself back in the hotel room, this time with several cots and blankets covering most of the floor. He's been put on one of the beds, laying on top of the blankets.

'What happened?'

Visions of America staring at him with hate in his eyes flash in front of him.

Slash.

Blood.

Russia goes pale and he stares down at his hands. Someone had already cleaned the blood off his arms and hands, but he could still imagine it there, covering his arms and the knife he held. 

'I hurt him.'

'I took his eyesight.'

'Those types of injuries don't heal.'

'What have I done? What have I done?'

"Hey, why the long face?" America says, climbing onto the bed next to him.

Russia can't bring himself to look up, even as America crawls closer.

"Russ?"

Tears fall onto his hands, and a lump sits heavy in the back of his throat. Russia feels his heart pulling itself apart.

"How badly did I hurt you?!" America asks, his tone getting frantic, "no no no! Don't cry! It's okay! Cali can give you some pain meds and-"

"It's not about that," Russia mutters, his voice cracking. America stops.

"Are you okay?" America asks quietly, grabbing Russia's hands. Russia pulls away as if America had set them on fire, guilt pounding in his chest.

"Russia...I...I'm so f***ing sorry," America says, his voice shaking.

'What?'

Russia looks up, startled.

"I attacked you. I ATTACKED you. You tried to tell me that I was wrong and I almost killed you," America chokes, bringing a hand over his mouth.

"You thought I killed them," Russia mumbles.

"But you didn't! You wouldn't! You kept me from killing them!" America cries out before looking away, his lip quivering, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be yelling at you. I should've listened. I should've just f***ing listened."

"I didn't want to hurt you," Russia whines, drawing his knees to his chest and leaning his head on them, "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Russia," America whispers. He looks heartbroken.

'What did I say wrong?'

'Is he upset with me? He should be.'

'Maybe this relationship thing was a mistake. I hurt him. I f***ing hurt him'

'Maybe if I had looked, I wouldn't have hit his eye. Maybe if I had done something else, I wouldn't have handi-capped him.'

Russia tries in vain to blink away tears and America gently takes his face and tilts it up.

"Look at me," America says. 

Russia relents and feels his stomach churn seeing the bandages and the cup taped over his eye.

"Oh Russia," America coos, "baby, this isn't your fault."

"I blinded one of your eyes! Things like that don't heal. It's gone now, and it's because of me," Russia explains, trying to pull away from America.

America gets closer, almost leaning against his knees.

'I don't want to hurt you again. Please, I don't want to hurt you,' Russia thinks, trying to sink as far away from America as the pillows would allow.

"Russ, it's not your fault. You did what you had to. I mean, look at what I did to you!"

"This will scar, it will heal. You can't fix your eye," Russia mumbles.

"I don't care about my eye!" 

Russia pulls away further, and America goes quiet. Russia risks looking up, and sees that America is staring, looking horrified.

"Are you scared of me?" America mutters.

Russia shakes his head.

"Then why are you pulling away from me?"

"I hurt you. Are you not upset?"

"I'd be a whole lot more upset if you did nothing! I could've killed you! I could've killed any of them. Hell, you're the only reason all of us made it out of there alive. Ari told me what you did, and I don't think I could ever thank you enough. You kept them safe."

"I hurt you."

"You had to! I cornered you!"

Russia doesn't answer.

"If anyone has the right to be mad, it's you," America mutters.

"What?"

"I went berzerk. I was trying to kill you. I slashed your face and nearly cut you in half. I didn't listen, and I hurt you."

Russia whines.

"Please, just let me heal you. Please."

Russia relaxes his arms and allows America to move them. America pulls him down so he's lying on his back with his legs against the bed and begins to summon his magic. Light blue concentrates around Russia's abdomen.

It feels heavy. Sad. 

It lays on his stomach like a wet blanket.

The pain begins to get better, and the pulling sensation of his torso disappears.

Then America focuses around Russia's face and Russia feels his lip stitch itself back together. America begins panting, a look of exertion on his face.

"America, stop," Russia says.

"Let me just..."

"You're hurting yourself. Stop," Russia insists, lowering America's hands.

"No. I have to fix what I've done to you."

"I'm fine," Russia promises, holding America's hands down, "I'm fine." 

America scowls but doesn't protest. Instead, America lays down beside Russia, so close that Russia can almost feel him, but he seemed to avoid touching him. 

'Screw it.'

Russia reaches out and takes America's hand. Just the fact that his hand is warm is assuring. America tenses at first before moving, pulling Russia into a hug and pressing his head against Russia's shoulder.

"Dad, don't put pressure on your face," California warns. 

America groans, but pulls his face away. 

"*I'm sorry,*" Russia mumbles, "*I'm so sorry I hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.*"

"Russ, don't apologize. This isn't your fault."

"*If I did something different, this wouldn't have happened. Don't you get it, I could have prevented you from losing your eye. I could've just kept dodging. I could've looked. I could've dropped the knife,*" Russia rants, working himself up into a frenzy

"*I could've said something about how something wasn't right. I knew something was going to go wrong, but I didn't say anything. I-*"

"Rue, stop."

Russia tries to calm his breathing. It's not working very well, and the lump from before wedges itself back into his throat.

"I should have listened. There were a lot of things that could've gone differently. I should've noticed the magic or the trap. We should've been more careful. But if we are going with 'what-ifs,' what if you hadn't sent the kids away? What if you weren't fast enough? What if you didn't snap me out of it? What then?"

Russia wipes his face.

"You did the best you could, and I'm sorry I made you do that," America mumbles, "but you were able to make it so we all got out alive."

"Papa, this isn't your fault either," Philippines chimes.

America opens his mouth to protest, but Texas beats him to speak.

"Dad, don't you dare say you caused this. You ain't never wanted to hurt any of us," Texas says.

"You was being manipulated," Alabama points out.

"Yeah! You didn't know what you was doing," Mississippi agrees.

"It was just a bad thing," California comments, "and I'm just happy that Dad didn't, like, kill one of us."

"According to Mass-y and Lulu, you were cursed," New Mexico explains, "and cursed pretty strongly at that."

"Someone was planning for us to go there," New Hampshire says darkly, "They were waiting for us and planted traps for us to trip when we arrived. Motherf***ers were planning to have us tear each other apart."

"I forgive you, Daddy," Arizona says quietly, approaching the side of the bed and climbing on. She snuggles into America's side.

"It was scary, but you didn't mean to hurt me. Lulu and Sett said that you were seeing things that weren't real and that you only attacked us like that cuz you loved us and you thought we got hurt."

America pulls away from Russia and pulls Arizona into a tight hug. 

"Thanks, kiddo," he says quietly, "I love you. I'm sorry I scared you so bad."

"You didn't mean to. It's okay." America lays back, quiet. 

'I'm happy everyone is alright,' Russia thinks, glancing down at the states with a soft smile. 

Suddenly, a miniature person latches onto his arm. He turns his head and sees Arizona looking up at him with admiration.

"Thank you, you saved me. Sorry, I should've listened when you told me to hide," Arizona says, her face turning a little red, and she looks away.

"It's alright," Russia mumbles in reply, "You are well. It will be okay."

Arizona lets go and pulls away, giving Russia a grateful smile before rejoining the ranks of her siblings.

"You know," America says quietly, "I thought I killed you."

Russia's attention rockets back to America, who looked almost broken.

"I thought I killed you when you fell like that. I was so scared that I did. I was so scared that I killed you because you were trying to protect Arizona when I was attacking her. I don't know what I'd do if that was true," America mutters, pulling his arms and legs toward his chest.

Russia reaches out and pulls America into an embrace. America yelps before setting into his arms.

"I am alive. Everyone is alive. We will be okay," Russia says reassuringly.

"And even better," California chimes, "Tuck found some really good stuff to look at and these pictures look important."

"What kind of stuff did he get?" America asks.

"Paperwork on employees, trade partners, contract agreements, all sorts of stuff," Arizona says, holding up the papers.

"It should be enough to start piecing together what's going on and how to stop it," New Hampshire says.

"I also took pictures of a whole bunch of maps up on the wall," Kentucky says, "and it looks like there are several bases around the USA, and that we just happened to find one of them."

"Ohh, and protocols for what to do if the base is breached," Texas says, waving the stack of paper enthusiastically.

"I may have also taken a laptop," Kentucky adds.

"How are we supposed to get into that thing without setting off any alarms?" California questions.

"I took the keycard laying next to it," Kentucky says, pulling a card out from one of his pockets and showing it off to the group.

The states cheer. America pulls up and kissed Russia's forehead before settling back into his side.

"I'm sorry," America whispers, "I want to be with you. I want you to forgive me, but-"

"I already have," Russia says quietly, "we're okay."

America hums, sinking into the blankets.

'Maybe things will finally get better.'

'I hope.'


	19. Puzzle Pieces

"So, is 'Rue' my new nickname?" Russia asks playfully.

"Yeah," America asserts, "You like it?"

Russia rolls his eyes, but the small smile doesn't fade.

'It's cute, but only when he's saying it.'

"I love it, Stars," Russia replies, smiling at the new nickname. 

America's eye lights up and Russia smiles. Russia tries his best to ignore the sinking feeling the bandages on America's face give him. America's right eye is bandaged to all h***, and Russia's left cheek is bandaged up.

Russia looks away.

'I know America doesn't blame me.'

'I still feel so guilty.'

Russia's face falls. 

"Hey, don't worry about it, okay?" America soothes, trying to comfort him.

"..."

"Besides," America says, pulling him into a hug, "now I can say I'm more of a pirate than England ever was. Scotty and Wales are takin' my side, I know it."

Russia holds in laughter, hands over his mouth.

America gives him a proud grin.

"ARGH!" America yells and holds up his hand in the shape of a hook. 

Russia laughs loudly behind his hands. America pulls his hands down and presses their foreheads together. Russia tries to restrain his giggles and America begins laughing as well. Russia quiets and looks up, meeting America's eye. America smiles right back and pecks him on the cheek. Russia's cheeks warm-up, and he grins.

"For real though, don't worry about it. I've always wanted an awesome face scar, I'm not gonna complain now that I got one."

"You are very silly," Russia groans, but he can't wipe the smile off his face.

"I know, darlin', but that ain't gonna stop me!" America cackles, and Russia playfully pushes him, trying to his giggling into his hands. 

America worms his way into Russia's arms and sits back in his lap. America pulls Russia's arms around his torso, smug smile on his face. Russia rolls his eyes but complies, smiling down at him. America lays back and relaxes for a moment before Alabama pokes his head up above the edge.

"Hey, Dad?"

"What's up, kiddo?"

"I got some of them papers, but they don't make no sense. Sippi says it might be government lingo or somethin'. Could you take a look?"

"Yeah sure, hand 'em over."

Alabama hands over a large stack of papers held together by a binder clip.

"Thanks, kiddo." 

America begins flipping through them before stopping on one of the pages and tilting it up, letting Russia see the words. Russia scans through them and furrows his eyebrows.

"Doesn't this look familiar?" America asks, suspicion in his tone.

Russia begins scanning the pages and frowns.

'Very familiar.'

"Yes. What is it from?"

"Some old documents my boss gave me maybe a few months before we went on lock-down. I refused to sign 'em, cuz they were suspicious. But now it looks like some of the pages are different," America mumbles, flipping through a few more pages. Russia reads along over his shoulder, sometimes having to hold America's hands down to keep him from turning the pages. 

A few lines stand out as strange.

"Sworn secrecy," one line reads.

"The Revolution only accepts people who are willing to fight for the cause of the Revolution. Any perceived threats will be swiftly dealt with," another line warns.

America huffs and falls against Russia's chest. Russia tightens his hold, and America leans back, relaxing against him.

"Some secret organization," America groans, "I guess I should've known."

"Maybe there is more here," Russia suggests, pointing to one of the shorter paragraphs. "'This may have agents on missions in other countries or coming into contact with the caged,'" Russia reads. 

"'The caged,' huh?" California says, "sounds like that's what they call the prisoners."

"Or the monsters," Texas argues.

"Either way, I think that just confirms what we already knew," America says, dropping the papers and crossing his arms.

A thought strikes Russia.

"Kentucky?" Russia calls.

"Yes sir?"

"Take pictures of everything, please. I would like to send them to my father."

"Not a problem!" Kentucky says, flashing a grin before pulling out the phone and taking pictures of several papers scattered across the ground.

"Thank you," Russia says with a half-smile, trying to ignore the stinging in his cheek. 

Then, the phone begins ringing, and it goes flying through the air.

Texas laughs, "Tuck, what in tarnation are you throwin' that there phone for?"

"It up and scared me!" Kentucky defends.

"Here, hand it up to me," America says, holding his hand out. Kentucky hands it up, his cheeks pink, and glares at Texas. Texas grins back.

"Oh. Hi, Dixie! How's it going over there?"

Russia tries to listen to what's being said, but the words are too garbled and muffled.

"Yeah, it wasn't fun, that's for sure," America says, "Nah, I'm not too hurt. Might be stuck looking like a pirate though................. 'Why?' Uhhh.... cuz Russia may have nearly taken out one of my eyes?............ HEY! Don't yell at me! He didn't mean- I'd prefer if you didn't gut my boyfriend thanks........... Yes, He is my boyfriend."

Dixie says something and America's face goes pink.

"SHUT UP!" America squawks. 

Russia stiffens a little, startled. 

"Sorry," America mouths.

America takes a deep breath before continuing.

"No, he didn't mean-........... Yes........... Well, the difference is that I was being controlled and I almost killed him and Arizona! He was completely justified. He was protecting the states.......... = I'm fine! I promise............ Uh-huh..... Alright......."

America begins sifting through some of the papers, tucking the phone into his shoulder.

"Hey Russ, could you keep reading through some of the other stuff? I gotta tell Dix what we found so far," America says over his shoulder. 

Russia nods. He reaches over and grabs the stack thrown onto the nightstand. He scans the words for anything out of place in the contract.

America's voice steals his attention back from the boring words.

"Yup, just kinda confirming what we already knew," America comments.

Dixie says something that sounded teasing, and America sighs.

"We already knew that too," America says, exasperated.

"Darn it! Why is it still asking for a password?!" Kentucky exclaims, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"Is it giving you a problem?" California asks, lowering her folder.

"I'm a hardware guy," Kentucky says with a shrug.

"Let me see it," California says, snatching it out of his hands.

"Hey!"

"Hush, Tuck. The genius is at work."

"'The genius'?" Texas scoffs.

"Yeah, the only smart one here," California says with a smirk.

Texas huffs, but one look from America has him backing down. Russia smiles

"Yup, the kids are trying to hack a laptop Tuck nabbed from the place. Yeah, no idea why one of them was just kinda left there," America explains with a shrug, "better for us."

"Here, Dixie wants to talk to you," America says, handing Russia the phone. Russia swallows.

'Uh oh.'

"Okay, Ruski. Let me get something straight, I'm fixin' to come down there and beat your a** for hurtin' my brother. The only reason I ain't doing it yet is 'cause you went outa your way to protect one of the youngins," Dixie says, and Russia can feel the aggression radiating through the phone, "You're very lucky Amy likes ya, otherwise, you may not make it home in one place. You understand?"

"Yes," Russia says after realizing Dixie couldn't see him nod.

"Amy, bless his heart, may not hurt you, but you best bet I will. Don't you ever hurt him again. Hand me back to Amy," Dixie says gruffly, and Russia hands the phone back.

America takes it and looks at Russia. He pulls the microphone away from his mouth for a moment.

"Don't worry, Rue-Rue, I'll protect you," America whispers with a sweet smile.

Russia couldn't help but smile back and nuzzles America's shoulders with the non-bandaged side of his face. America giggles.

"Oh, yeah. Just Russ bein' cute," America explains into the phone. 

Russia could almost hear Dixie's exasperation through the unintelligible words. 

"Yeah, I know, I know. But I can make my own decisions. Anyways, you wanna talk to some of the kids?" America asks. 

Dixie must have said "Yes" because America hands the phone over to New Mexico, who takes it with a smile.

"God, him and his nagging," America complains, throwing his arms up, and Russia dodges them with a small smile, "don't get me wrong, I love him, I really do, it's the scolding that gets me."

"He cares about you," Russia comments lightly.

"I know," America mutters, moving to lean his head on Russia's chest, "I know. Just wish he'd let me make my own decisions." 

Russia glances down and makes sure first that it was the non-bandaged side of his face, and relaxes once he's sure. He brushes America's hair through his fingers. 

"But I think I just like you a bit too much for me to care," America mumbles, staring up at Russia with affection in his eye. 

Russia freezes, completely star-struck.

"Really?" Russia asks breathlessly.

"Of course," America chirps.

Russia kisses America cheek, and America chuckles. 

"YAY! Got it!" California cheers, throwing her hands into the air.

"Wait really?" Texas asks.

"Yeah. See?" California says smugly, spinning the laptop screen around.

"Huh. Good job," Texas says.

"Ooh! Tex, are you goin' crazy?" New Hampshire laughs.

Texas crosses his arms.

"No! I just ain't gonna put down someone doin' good things, even if it is Cali," Texas defends. 

New Hampshire scoffs.

"Well, what's on it?" America asks.

"Uh..." California mutters, scrolling through the computer, "looks like most of the files are encrypted. It might take a while to solve them."

"Can I help?" Alabama says.

"Bama, you can barely count, you can't help decrypt anything," New Mexico chimes.

"Hey!"

"I'll help," Philippines offers, and California turns the screen toward him.

"Maybe we'll be able to find something," America mutters, grabbing a new stack of papers places on the edge of the bed. 

"Maybe," Russia mumbles.

"Hey, Dad?" Arizona calls.

"Yeah?"

"When are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Are we still gonna be stuck together?" Wyoming questions. America is quiet for a moment.

"Yes," Russia says, and the states groan.

"It's for your own safety," America defends.

Mississippi groans loudly.

"What did you guys even see anyway?"


	20. It's Cold Outside

"What?" America asks, a little confused. 

"I mean, I get you were freaking out, but uh, why were you attacking Russia?" Wyoming elaborates. 

America tenses. Russia takes America's hands and gently squeezes them. America sighs and leans back. 

"It...I saw agents run in and... I saw them kill everyone but me," America mutters, his voice cracking. Russia hugs him tight. America swallows and tucks his cheek against his chest. 

"And I saw one of the people that killed you standing in front of me," America says quietly, facing Arizona, "but it wasn't... it wasn't an agent. Is it like instead of seeing Russia, I saw the person who killed my family." 

"What stopped you?" Wyoming asks, his voice low. 

"Well, I could hear Russia, but I didn't believe it until after I slashed at him," America admits, guilt filling his tone. 

"It's okay," Russia whispers. 

"I should've listened," America mutters, squeezing his eye shut and biting his lip. 

"It's okay." 

'I love you.' The thought is loud in Russia's mind, but he doesn't dare say it. 

"I'm here," Russia reminds him. 

"I know." 

"Hey, Dad! Look!" Philippines calls, pointing out the open curtains. 

"What?" America asks curiously. 

"It's snowing!" Philippines exclaims. 

"I was just outside," New Hampshire says, "it was too warm." 

"Not anymore. Look!" Alabama cheers. 

"Aw man, I can't drive in that," California complains. 

"Me neither," Texas agrees begrudgingly. 

"I can," Russia says. 

"You're still hurt," America protests. 

"We can't stay here," Russia says, "and I can drive in the snow." 

"I can too," New Hampshire says, "and these southerners are helpless in the cold." 

"Can't argue with that," Mississippi says with a shrug. 

"Coco did mention something about random snow," New Mexico says. 

"I thought he was lying," Texas mumbles, looking outside. 

"It's snowing pretty hard. Do we have anything to clean it off of the cars?" 

"I think we shoved a brush into the trunk." 

The states continue to talk with each other, and Russia tunes them out. He focuses on America, who snuggles up against him. He looks down, curious. America meets his eyes. America smirks and cuddles tighter. 

"What?" America says, "I gotta keep you warm somehow." 

Russia smiles and pulls him up to his chest. 

'He's so sunny. So warm.' 

"How's your chest doing?" America asks, tracing the bandages. 

"It is fine. You have helped much," Russia says. 

America pulls away from Russia a little and sits up. America straddles Russia's legs and stares at Russia for a moment before pulling up Russia's shirt. Russia yelps and tries to pull it back down. 

"Hey, I just wanna see how you're doing," America says calmly, "lemme see the bandages." 

Russia raises his arms and tries to ignore the heat in his cheeks. America traces his fingers around and tenderly unwraps the bandages. They fall away and America brushes his fingertips over the forming scar. Russia shivers. 

America sighs. Russia glances down, and his heart drops. 

America's face had dropped to a guilty, heart-wrenching look. One of his hands pulls back and begins rubbing circles on his chest with his fist. 

'What does that mean?' 

'He's sad. I don't want him to be sad.' 

Russia's eyes trail up to America's face and notice him mouthing something. It takes a few moments to recognize the words as numerous apologies. 

Russia gently tugs the cloth away from America's hands and back down over his stomach. He pulls America's hands to his chest and captures his mouth in a gentle, careful kiss. He had to be mindful of his bandages, of course, but he wanted to snap America out of his regret-filled state. 

Russia pulls away a moment later and smiles gently. America stares back, his mouth agape. 

"It's okay," Russia whispers, "we are okay." 

"But-" 

"No. *Everything is fine,*" Russia insists, swallowing back the guilt creeping up his throat.

America whines. 

"This is not your fault. You were tricked. The states said it themselves." Russia says, cupping America's face and pressing their foreheads together, ignoring the pulling sensation from his torso. 

He shoves the negative feelings deeper into his chest. 

"But-" 

"No." 

America just frowns. Russia sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. He nuzzles America and pulls away.

"How is your eye?" Russia asks. 

"It stings," America admits, "but I think I'll be fine." 

Russia hums and delicately pulls America into a hug. 

"I'm sorry," America says quietly into his shoulder, "I know you're saying you're fine, but I'm sorry." 

"I forgive you," Russia mutters back, "*everything is okay.*" 

America hums and shifts a little to lie his chest against Russia. Russia holds him tight and a light blue glow surrounds the two. Russia stares at the blue glow with amazement. The magic feels lighter somehow, Russia notes, it feels happier. Russia smiles.

'At least you're feeling better.' 

The pulling in his torso gets a bit tighter before disappearing, and his face begins to stitch itself back together. He winces in discomfort but doesn't mention it. America tentatively wraps his arms around Russia. 

"Just tell me if I'm making you... if I hurt you," America mumbles. 

Russia nods. America wraps his arms a little tighter, tucking his chin into Russia's shoulder. 

Once America settles in Russia's lap and the teens stop freaking out about the snow falling outside, Russia picks up the documents again and skims through it, propping the papers on America's back. America traces circles on Russia's chest, swirling around the fabric. 

"Hey, Mr. Russia?" Mississippi says. 

Russia looks up with a hum. 

"Can we have some snacks?" 

"Yes. Do not make a mess," Russia replies. 

The states cheer and Texas and Philippines help hand out bags of chips around the kids. They hop onto nearby cots and munch away, dusting crumbs off paperwork and blankets as they work. 

Russia scans through the packet again and stops at some strange wording. He goes back and rereads it. 

"If he/she has magic potential, he/she will be put in SECTOR - A. He/she will funnel al magic potential to generals of SECTOR - G. If he/she refuses, he/she will be put in a TR," it says. 

"Stars?" Russia says quietly. 

"Yeah?" America whispers. 

"Can you channel magic?" 

"What do you mean?" America asks, propping himself up. 

"Look," Russia says, handing the papers down to him. 

"What?" 

"Here," Russia says, pointing to the line. 

America scans the page and his eyebrows rose. 

"Huh," America mumbles. 

"What do you think?" 

"I have a hunch," America mutters, "hand me the phone?" 

America reaches out with grabby hands and Russia retrieves it with a smile. America types a phone number and puts the phone up to his face. 

"Hi Mass, I just wanted to ask a few questions. Do you still have your books?" America asks. 

"Okay, but you can still read most of it?..... Okay. So I want you to start looking into magic channeling...... Yeah, through personal sources...... Okay kiddo, I'll leave you to find it..... Call me back when you find something, okay?... Love you too. Bye." 

America hangs up and drapes his arms over Russia's shoulders and onto the pillows behind him. America drops the phone and Russia grabs it. He hands it off to Kentucky so the state could continue taking pictures. 

"What do you think 'TR' stands for?" Russia asks. 

"I'm not sure," America replies reluctantly. 

"Ooh! Can I help?" Alabama volunteers. 

"Okay. We have an acronym on here we're trying to figure out. 'TR'." 

"Well, what's it from?" Alabama asks. 

"Something something, if someone doesn't listen, they will be sent to a TR," America replies. 

"Well, y'all mentioned a training room, right? Could that be what they're talking about?"

Russia's eyes widen and his mouth falls open. America stiffens. Noticing the discomfort, Russia tightens his hold and briefly presses his lips into America's hair. America leans back into him.

"It could be," Russia mumbles, "it would make sense." 

"Yes!" Alabama cheers, high-fiving Mississippi with a grin. 

"Good thinking, Bama," Kentucky says, not looking up from the phone. 

"Thanks, Chicken Nugget." 

"Bama, my name ain't 'chicken nugget'. You know that." 

"Whatever you say, nugget." 

Kentucky sighs, but gets back to his work. 

America sighs. Russia picks up a new packet of papers and scans through them for any identifying information. 

"Hey," California says, trying to get Russia's attention, "can I see your face?" 

"Yes," Russia replies, leaning forward and letting her unwrap the bandages. 

California hums and pulls off the gauze. Russia winces at the strange sensation of it being pulled off. California smiles once she sees what's underneath. 

"You're healing, like, a lot faster than I thought you would," she chirps, "that wound was pretty deep. At this rate, you'll be scarred over in a few days. You'll have to be careful for now though if you catch my drift."

Russia smiles and nods. 

"I'm just gonna leave it uncovered for now if that's okay," California says, and Russia nods.

California backs up with a proud grin. She collects the gauze and bandages off the bed and tosses them out into a waste bin. 

"Dad?" 

America sits up and leans forward, and she unwraps the bandages off his head. Russia winces, but can't tear his eyes away. 

"Can you open it?" California asks. 

"No, not really," America replies. 

California pulls the cup away and carefully uses some wet napkins to carefully wipe away the slime that accumulated under America's eye in feather light movements. She swipes away at the crust under America's eyelid. 

America blinks his eye open, and Russia freezes. 

His eye is pale. 

Colorless. 

Broken. 

Blind. 

"Does it hurt?" California's voice sounds muffled. He faintly sees America shake his head. 

Russia takes America's head and gently turns it to face him. America's eyes moved to look at him. Russia looks into his eyes and feels his heart clench so painfully, he loses his breath. The next breath comes in a pained gasp. 

"Russ?" America asks. 

Russia can't bring himself to answer. 

"Rue-Rue, talk to me, what's wrong?" America directs. 

"*I'm sorry,*" Russia mumbles. 

"Hey, don't be like that," America mutters, putting his hands over Russia's, "we're okay. I'm okay, we're okay." 

Russia sighs and looks away. 

"Don't beat yourself up over this. I promise that I'm okay. Maybe my sight can even come back," America says with optimism in his tone. 

'It wouldn't,' Russia knows, but he can't bring himself to say anything.

"Hey, calm down. I'm still here, okay? I'm still here. Both of us are still here and that's all that matters, okay? You didn't have a choice, and what happened, happened. And if I'm not allowed to feel guilty, you aren't either."

"Okay," Russia mutters. 

"You promise you don't blame yourself for this?" 

"Yes, but only for you." 

America gives him a blinding smile. Russia manages to smile back. America puts his head back down and flips through the stack of cards in his lap before giving up a few minutes later, tossing the cards back on the bed. 

"I'm tired," America complains. 

"Then you should sleep," Russia replies, not looking away from the documents, focused on reading it. 

America groans. 

"But I want attention," America whines quietly. 

Russia tries to ignore him. 

"Please..." America pleads. 

Russia sighs and he looks away from the papers down to America, who stares up with a sad gaze. Russia looks away, puffing up his cheeks, but wincing at the pain it caused.

'I have to read this.'

Russia makes the mistake of looking back down and meeting America's gaze. Russia feels his resolve crumbling.

'But he's sad.' 

'But I have to help figure out what's going on,' he tells himself, and he picks up the papers with a renewed resolve. America looks away. Russia looks down after a moment and sees America's dejected look. His heart clenches. 

'I can't ignore him. I can't.'

He puts the papers down and showers America with kisses. America begins giggling and laughs as Russia gently wrestles and tickles him. America squirms and is reduced to a handful of giggles.

"That's enough," America gasps through laughter, pushing Russia's arms away delicately.

Russia pulls his hands away and pulls America back into a hug. 

"I thought you wanted attention," Russia teases. 

America just giggles and kisses him. Russia kisses back but pulls away before it could go any farther. America smiles and kisses his uninjured cheek. Russia smiles, and America falls back against him. 

Russia absentmindedly starts humming a lullaby and uses one of his hands to brush America's hair, the other to flip through the contracts. 

'It's like having a cat,' Russia thinks, looking down at the sleepy country in his lap. Even still, he couldn't help but smile. 

'My favorite.'


	21. The Howling

America sleeps for most of the day, leaving Russia virtually trapped on the bed for the day. Russia honestly didn't mind too much. 

'It's warm here.' 

With America sleeping peacefully in his lap, he can almost forget the fact that they're being hunted, or that they got hurt. America's magic soaks the whole room in a peaceful, light blue glow. 

The magic feels happy, light, and airy. It makes Russia feel right. Sure, he knew he would feel even better at home, but for right now, he felt content, happy.

The states bask in the magic filling the room, and even Philippines looks around happily. 

"You know, he hasn't done this in a while," Wyoming comments, looking up at Russia. 

"What do you mean?" 

"His magic only gets like this when he's really happy," Texas explains, a small smile growing on his face. 

'Really happy? Here? With me?' 

Russia bashfully smiles and looks down at America, who radiates warmth and a sort of contented happiness that Russia hadn't felt since this whole adventure started. 

"The last time he got like this was when Hawaii first started visiting for holidays," New Hampshire comments. 

"The only thing left to do now is to get Dixie off your case," California says. 

"How are we gonna do that?" Wyoming asks. 

"I don't know," California says, "but we need him to accept Russ so Dad can be happy." 

"I have an idea," Kentucky says. He holds up the phone and takes a picture of Russia and America on the bed. 

Russia just smiles and gets lost in thought, smiling down at America. 

'Stars, you are more adorable than you will probably ever know.' 

He's snapped out of it when Alabama starts handing out paper plates with sandwiches. Russia gently shakes America awake.

"Hi," America mumbles, trying to ignore him. Russia giggles.

"Wake up," Russia says, "you have to eat."

"I don't want to," America whines.

Russia pushes him up gently and sits him up on the bed. America groans playfully and throws his arms around in protest. Russia laughs. 

"Eat," Russia persuades playfully. 

"Fine," America mumbles, crossing his arms. 

America shovels food into his face and eventually gets up and starts making another sandwich. But he keeps miscalculating the distances, grabbing at the air and then whacking his hand on the table. Russia watches on with a bittersweet feeling. 

'I did this to him.' 

Russia gets up, ignoring the ache in his stomach, and walks over to America to help. 

"No. I don't want you to do this for me!" America protests, swiping at Russia's hands. Russia sighs.

'I can't keep watching him struggle.' 

Russia takes America's hands and guilds them down to the table. America sighs.

"Thanks, Rue, but I have to learn how to do stuff by myself," America says softly, shaking off Russia's hands. Russia pulls away with a small smile, admiring America. 

'So stubborn,' he thinks, shaking his head, 'nothing will stop him from being independent.' 

They eventually return to the bed, and Russia watches carefully, ready to help America get up, but America shakes off his attempts.

After another few hours of examining documents and coming up short, Russia drifts off, the words from the documents circle in his mind, losing their meaning. 

He woke up the next morning to the kids beginning to pack up the cots and someone reaching under his shirt and drawing shapes on his chest. He opens his eyes and sees America tucked into his side, lazily tracing swirls on his skin under his shirt.

"*Good morning,*" Russia mumbles. 

"Hi," America mumbles, "it's time to get up." 

Russia groans and grabs America's hands, bringing them to his face, and he covers his eyes with America's hands.

"Nope. It's too dark," Russia argues playfully. 

America giggles and pulls his hands away. 

"Come on, we have to get ready to go," America insists. America grabs Russia's hands after a bit of fumbling and pulls him up. Russia sits up but goes limp soon after, slumping on top of America, knocking him onto the bed.

"Hey!" America exclaims. 

Russia laughs as America rolls him off.

"You need a shower," America teases, pushing Russia to the end of the bed. 

Russia rolls his eyes and gets up. He gets himself ready, careful of the injuries he had. Walks out to see the teens crowded around the window. He walks over and peaks above their heads out the window. 

Snowplows run on the roads, but it's snowing so hard that they didn't seem to make a dent in the blanket of white. Snowflakes the size of coins bump against the window, melting soon after contact. 

'Looks cold.'

He grabs his coat, only to find that it's wet. 

"How? Why is this wet?" Russia asks aloud. 

"We washed the blood out the best we could last night," New Mexico explains, "so Dad could fix it today. Sorry, we thought it would be dry right now."

"I can try to dry it," Arizona volunteers.

"No. You'll light it on fire," California protests. 

Arizona groans.

"It's fine," Russia insists, "I will not be outside for very long."

They finish getting ready, and Russia dawns his hat. He pulls Katya out from the pocket and strokes the fur, trying to convince himself the cold would be fine. He sighs and returns it to the pocket. 

When Russia had agreed to drive in the snow, he didn't realize he'd be driving a death trap with zero visibility. Even still, he couldn't stop. America identified some government vehicles parked outside the hotel while they were leaving. 

The wind whips around outside, pushing the truck around the road, and the snow falls so heavily, he can barely see out of the windshield. The morning had started with startling cold and speeding as fast as the tires would allow because of the suspicious people behind them. Russia is almost positive he'd slid off the side of the road at least twice.

America tries his best to navigate, but Russia finds himself not hearing him, focused on the road with white knuckles and cramping hands. 

'This is why I prefer riding trains in the winter.'

They make slow progress, but according to what they overheard on the radio, the agents sent to find them aren't going out in this storm and think that Russia and his group are still at the hotel because "only a crazy person would try to drive in this weather."

Russia would agree with this sentiment and agree that maybe he is crazy, but finds this drive to be far less terrifying than the thought of being sitting ducks back in Denver. America had turned on the radio to help calm Russia down a little, and Russia appreciates the sentiment but turns down the volume. 

It also really didn't help that his coat had been slashed open, though he can't complain too much. America sits in the passenger seat and is trying to fix it, yelling expletives every time the car swerves. Honestly, Russia would have laughed had he not been so glued to the wheel. 

Suddenly, the phone rings, and Russia jerks up in his seat. He hastily fixes the car's trajectory and America answers the phone. 

"Hello?....... He can't talk right now........ He's driving and the weather is pretty bad right now.......... Dark, heavy snowfall, icy roads, and we can't risk getting stuck at the side of the road unless we want to be captured......... Okay....... Honestly, I have no idea. I can't navigate if I can't see anything. But we have to keep moving, so this direction is good enough."

"*F***! God d*** it!*" Russia shouts as the car drifts almost sidewise into a ditch. Russia struggles to recover the skid and manages just before falling off the road. 

Wind whips around them, blasting the car with heavy, wet snow, nearly forcing them into another skid. Russia curses and pulls the car back onto the road. He glances up and sees New Hampshire's headlights in the mirror. 

'Good.'

Then a dark shape begins to form behind the heavy sheet of snow. Russia squints at the huge figure hunched over in the middle of the road.

"America."

"Hold on Russ-"

"No. What the f*** is that?" Russia asserts, pointing at the thing in front of them, still barely visible behind the snowfall.

"S***. Listen, commie, I'm going to have to call you back, okay? Big monster, danger, all that. Bye."

"Wait, who were you talking- Ugh, nevermind. What do I do? I can't stop. I'll lose traction."

"I don't know. S***! Uhh, just try to go around," America says before grabbing the radio, "Get your car ready to shoot!"

"Roger," Wyoming replies. 

America unbuckled and throws on his coat and a pair of thin gloves. He reaches into the glove box and pulls out a handgun. He cocks it and glares ahead. 

"Keep the car steady. Kids, get your coats on," America warns before opening the window. 

Russia is blasted with wind that reminds him of home. He shivers but tries to keep the car steady. New Hampshire pulls up beside him, and he sees states, tightly bundled up, popping out the sunroof and windows, with guns drawn.

America fires the first round, and the others follow suit. The thing shrieks and Russia finds himself approaching way too fast for his comfort. He clenches his hands tighter, set on ignoring his shivering and the numbness starting to spread through his fingers. 

He had one shot to make it between its legs. He grabs the radio.

"Follow me."

"Roger that."

New Hampshire returns to just behind him, and the dark silhouette moves.

He clenches the wheel and struggles to keep the car straight. It was like trying to thread a needle inside a blizzard. 

"We're getting close!" America shouts.

Russia clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too loudly and tries to correct his movements caused by his shivering. Normally he would be more resilient in the face of the cold, but with his recent thawing, he's still sensitive to the cold temperatures. 

'I want my jacket.' 

'Or maybe America.'

'Have to get out of here first.'

Russia's fingers are numb, and he relies on his eyes to make sure he's still holding the wheel. His core rapidly loses whatever heat he had been able to collect. Russia finds that he misses it.

Russia stares ahead, ignoring the prickling the snow brings as it touches him. He stares at the creature. Memories flash in his mind's eye.

'The mimic,' Russia mentally dubs it, remembering what it had done and its gaunt, canine face.

It glares down at them as they pass under it, and gunfire rings out from behind him, muffled by the snowfall. The thing shrieks and begins following them, its silhouette racing along the road.

He can almost see it open its mouth in the rearview mirror, and the sound of gunfire aimed at the cars pierces through the air. 

'S***.'


	22. Buried Alive

Russia's shivering became more like convulsions, and he struggles to keep his hands on the wheels. 

"Meri," Russia stutters out in between his chattering teeth, "close the window. Please." 

"But I- oh my God. Yeah, hold on," America says, the second part injected with panic. 

"Russ, are you okay?" Arizona asks. 

America pulled himself back into the car and rolls up the window as fast as he can. Russia tries to keep himself from biting his tongue. 

"Are you okay? F***! Why didn't I notice?" America exclaims.

Russia's legs cramps horribly, but he can't risk stalling the truck. He forces his legs to push against the gas and clutch, and the truck jerks. Luckily though, the car continues moving, even if the movement is stuttered and unsteady. 

"Russ?"

"We can't stop," Russia stammers, "have to keep going."

"I know, but you're shaking like a f***ing leaf!" America exclaims, "is there any way I can help?" 

Russia shrugs stiffly. America turns up the heat and takes off his jacket. Then something warm is laid on Russia's lap. He nearly melts into it. His shivering calms enough for him to control the truck to keep it on the road. 

"Very cold," Russia mumbles. 

"I know. I'm sorry," America replies. 

Russia just shivers. 

He hears it shriek a blood-curdling scream before emitting a loud, low clicking. It sounded almost like grinding gears. A look in the mirror confirms his fears.

It's getting closer.

He looks back to the road for a moment and the radio screams with static. Russia's head pops up and he looks in the side mirror.

He panics.

The thing had caught up to New Hampshire's car and had rammed into a back tire. New Hampshire's car begins to spin. Russia puts the truck out of gear and prepares to slam on the brakes. 

"What?" America demands.

Russia points to the rear window and America lets out a strangled gasp. Russia pulls over as fast as the truck would allow and without turning it off, he tosses America his jacket and hops out, not even sure if he had closed the door. 

Russia sprints forward, wielding the knife and a flashlight in one hand and grabbing a rock with the other. He throws the rock as high as his numb hands would allow, and it hits the monster on the shoulder blade. The thing opens its mouth, projecting static, and Russia shouts as loud as he can manage. 

"Over here!" he screams, his voice cracking.

The thing spins around on its heels and sniffs the air before dropping to all fours, its joints contorting and twisting out of sockets. It clicks loudly before shrieking. It sails through the air as it leaps toward him, its mouth open and ready to rip him to shreds.

Russia lunges out of the way, rolling to a stop in the snow. It skids to a stop and spins around, growling in a way that seemed to shake the ground itself. Russia's hair stands up. 

The numb feeling spreads and gets worse with the snow, but Russia couldn't care less. 

It charges back at him, and Russia lurches away, only to be caught by the gaunt hands. He clutches his knife and slashes at the thing's wrist before it can get a tight enough grip on him.

The thing screams, and Russia's ears ring.

The thing lunches over mountains of snow and grabs him again by the ankle. It drags him closer to fast for him to sit up and attack it, opening its mouth. Russia tries his best to kick it away, and snow fills his sweater. The shocking cold freezes him in place for a moment. 

Bright orange flies into view and the thing's mouth is filled with fire. It recoils and screams. 

"Back off F***ER!" Arizona cackles. 

Then ropes go flying around its face and Wyoming and Texas yank down once the lassos get around its head and mouth. 

America pulls Russia to his feet, and Russia's legs nearly give out.

'Getting too cold,' he realizes numbly, 'joints don't work right.'

"You shouldn't be out here!" America screams.

Russia hastily pulls away, clumsily watching the monster thrash.

'I am not... I am not leaving you alone,' his mind recites dully.

Texas and Wyoming wrestle the monster, pulling its head back and roping its mouth shut. The thing starts clawing at the ropes, only for it to get rammed into by Alabama and Mississippi sprinting into its legs, leaving it sprawled in the snow.

America runs out from behind Russia summoning his scythe. America takes a few running steps before jumping into the air. America soars, a dark look on his face, and his good eye glowing with magic. He landing hard on the monster's chest, knocking it to the ground. America quickly adjusts his stance, and before the monster has a chance to react, America strikes, bringing the scythe down in a powerful arch of death and destruction.

The strike drives itself deep into the creature's chest, and muffled screams burrow themselves into Russia's memories. 

The monster throws America off, and America rolls before stopping on his knees. 

"Hey motherf***er!" New Hampshire yells, gun drawn. 

The beast turns toward her as much as its restraints would allow. New Hampshire fires into its head as soon as she has a clear shot. 

Instead of killing it, however, it only made the beast angry. It thrashes around, and Texas and Wyoming lose their grips. The lassos come loose and it throws its head back, screaming into the sky. 

Russia stumbles in pain, his ears throbbing from the noise.

Philippines rushes at it, pipe in hand. The thing reaches for him, and Philippines deflects it. The freak reaches again, and America jumps onto its back. 

America draws the scythe high in the air before swinging it down fast enough for it to leave an afterimage of blue in the winter air. 

California grabs Russia from under his left arm, he about collapsed on top of her. She seemed to have a hard time getting ahold of him. It takes Russia a moment to figure out why. He looks down at his arms and sees them shaking violently. 

'Oh.'

"Come on!" 

The words sound muffled and hard to understand.

California begins dragging him back to the truck. Russia sluggishly pulls away and turns around. His eyes snap open when he meets the gaze of the creature. 

It darts at them, black seeping from several holes on its forehead.

Russia grabs California in a bearhug and falls back. He lands on his back into a mound of snow that engulfs them. He shoves California up and out of the snowdrift with all the strength he can gather. He feels her fall away from him as soon as he kicks, but the force pushed him deeper into the mound. The snow above him tumbles over, burying him alive in a frozen tomb.

Russia claws at the snow with numb fingers and struggles for air. 

The cold saps his energy away and his eyelids droop.

'No! No sleep. No sleep. Can't go to sleep. Can't.'

He forces his eyes open and forces his sore limbs to move, to cooperate, to do anything, because if he can't, if he doesn't move, he'll be stuck here until spring.

He digs upward and doesn't register the muffled screaming around him. 

'Need to go. Go. Keep going. No sleep. Not sleepy. No sleep.

'So cold.'

The snow pressed the shape of Katya in his hat against his head.

'Have to get out,' he thinks, determined, 'for him. For America.'

Russia shoves snow around in a panic, trying desperately to make sure it doesn't get the chance to completely pin him down. He throws his arms up through the loosest of the piles of snow and claws at it, knocking it down onto his face and down the front of the sweater. Some of it packs around his chest. He shakes uncontrollably.

'So cold.'

'So tired.'

His breathing comes in shallow gasps, and he tries to focus on which way is up, but his mind is filled with a buzzing static. 

The small amount of heat from his body disappears instantly and melts some of the snow around him, leaving him soaking wet. The water soaks into his clothes and begins weighing him down. 

Russia kicks wildly, and light peaks through from above. It's dull, but it's close. The light grey above him proves a source of hope. His will power surges, and he flails against the barriers of ice and snow.

He throws handfuls of snowfall to his feet, some of it coating the insides of his boots. No longer having anything insulated or warm anymore forces his movements to slow. But he still struggles, throwing it out of his way as fast as his arms could, he tries to shove himself upward.

'I will not die here. I will not die under here.'

'I will not.'

'I can't.'

'I can't leave my family behind. I can't leave the kids behind. I can't leave America behind.'

The snow above him begins to fall apart under his hands, and Russia plants his feet into the snow under him.

'I have to get out.'

He shoves his feet down as hard as he could.

The snow underneath him gives out under his legs. The snow swallows his boots His arms jerk around against the edges of the death trap and blood rushes through his ears. Snow starts packing around his shoulder, taking hold of him. The brumal hands of sleet slowly start pulling him under.

He frantically tries to keep his head above the snowy abyss.

Then the window lights up bright orange, and water begins dripping ontop of him. The dripping turns into a waterfall. Russia reaches up as far as he can. He faintly feels someone take his hand and pull.

He flies out of the snow and crashes into his rescuer. They tumble to the ground and Russia ends up on top of something puffy and warm.

He gasps as the pressure on his chest finally releases. He drowsily opens his eyes and sees America's coat under him. 

"Come to Russia! Don't go to sleep!" California yells.

'I'm so tired.'

"Don't you dare! Don't you f***ing dare!" America demands, "look at me!"

Russia's eyes droop.

"I said LOOK AT ME!"

Russia's eyes lazily open and move to meet America's.

"Why the f*** did you f***ing do that you absolute f***ing dumba**!?" America screams.

Russia smiles softly with cracked lips.

'I'm happy I get to hear your voice again.'

Then America sits up and pulls Russia into a desperate hug. Russia gasps at the tight grip. America starts shaking even harder than he is, and Russia sees him sob, snot and tears pouring down his face.

'No. Didn't want you sad.'

America hiccups before pulling Russia up. America sprints with him and shoves him roughly into the backseat of the truck. The heat hits his skin like a blast from a hairdryer. The dizziness nearly pulls him into sleep, but he forces himself to look up at America, who sobs from above him. 

"You better stay awake," America begs, "please, Rue. You know you can't go to sleep like this."

'No sleep,' Russia dully agrees. He slowly nods his head.

The truck starts rocking, and it slowly drifts around on the road before gliding forward. The motion is relaxing. America shakes him awake. 

"Come on, you have to stay awake. If you don't, I'm going to put you on the phone with your dad. And he's already hella mad at me hanging up on him."

Russia smiles up at him.

America jostles him around, stripping him down and dropping the wet fabric to the ground. America brushes off the snow and water the best he can. Then he takes off his coat and wraps it around Russia as tight as he can, almost pinning his arms to his sides.

A small noise escapes the back of Russia's throat and he snuggles into it.

"You are still not allowed to sleep."

'But I want to.'

America continues shuffling things away before dropping his arms down.

"Stop the car. I need one of y'all to get blankets out of the trunk."

The truck slows to a stop, and he hears two people jump out from the front passenger side. Foggy confusion fills his mind, but he shakes it off.

America quickly swaddles him in dry blankets. They're cold, but don't stay cold for long. America holds him close and the vents fill the backseat with dry heat. Russia's violent shivering finally begins to subside. Now he vibrates under the fabric and prickly feelings reenter his fingers. He winces.

"Don't ever do something that f***ing stupid ever again," America demands, sniffling and wiping at his face with napkins from the center console.

"I won't," Russia rasps.

America sniffles before trapping Russia in a hug. 

"You scared me so f***ing bad, you a**hat," America mumbles, shoving Russia's shoulder, "we thought everything was fine when the monster ran off and Cali got out before it collapsed. But when she screamed you were trapped in there, God, I didn't even know what to do."

"Sorry."

"Don't even start that with me, douche-bag. I always thought the kids would be the death of me, but you might just have to take that title."

"Thanks," Russia says with a smirk.

"That's not a good thing, d***head," America growls, smacking Russia's chest.

Russia laughs. 

"You're such an a**hole," America grumbles, kissing Russia's forehead. 

Russia smiles at the warmth on his face.


	23. Short and Sweet

Russia lays back quietly for a moment, trying to keep his chattering to a minimum when something soft hits his face. He blinks slowly. 

"Ari?" America asks. 

"What? I love it, but right now, I think he needs it more than I do," Arizona says dismissively. 

America lifts it up and Russia sees a scarf with one end decorated with an orange star and stripes, and under the star is blue that covers the rest of the scarf. America gently wraps it around Russia, and the texture of it against his face is soft. 

Russia looks up at Arizona poking her head around the seat. 

"What? Dad cares about you and you saved Cali," Arizona says with a shrug, "can't escape us now." 

Russia laughs. 

"How're you feelin' back there?" Kentucky asks. 

"Better," Russia answers honestly, "less cold." 

"I'm just happy that we could get you out," Arizona says. 

"Yeah. Thanks," California says quietly. 

"Are you okay?" Russia asks, sitting up a little. 

"Yeah, I'll be fine," California says, "thanks by the way. You didn't have to do that." 

"I will not let you get hurt," Russia promises. 

California gasps and spins around, looking around the seat, almost pressed against the door. Arizona leans over the armrest from the same seat. 

'That's where they went.' 

"Why?" California asks, surprised. 

"I am here, I protect you," Russia says, staring up and making eye contact with the states in the car with them. 

America mumbles something and Russia looks up. America stares down at him, and Russia freezes, and his breath leaves him. America stares at him with wonder and adoration. 

Russia beams in response, and America laughs quietly. America leans over and tenderly kisses him. Russia's heart swells and he smiles against America's lips. America pulls away and sighs. 

"Sometimes I think I'm dreaming," America mutters. 

"Monsters?" Russia asks. 

America pauses and then laughs breathlessly. 

"No, silly. You're just too good to be true," America says through giggles. 

Russia's face goes bright red and he tries to stammer out a response. America laughs. 

"Never thought I'd get you like this with some cheesy- a** pick-up line," America says lightly, "now come here." 

America begins tugging the blankets loose, and Russia almost fights against him until he feels warm hands begin tracing his back. America pulls Russia onto his chest and tangles their legs together. Russia melts against him. 

"You are... so warm," Russia mumbles into America's shirt. 

America's chest shakes as he laughs. Russia buries his face into America's chest and breaths in. 

"Love you too," America jokes. 

Russia's thoughts stop in their tracks, and his heart feels like it's so full that it feels like it might explode. He feels America tense under him. 

'Love me? He loves me?' 

"Sorry, that was... uncalled for," America mumbles, pulling away. 

'Why is he so nervous?' 

"*I love you,*" Russia admits, and his heart pounds in his chest. America sighs in relief and snuggles into Russia's shoulder, pulling Russia up to his collar bone like a stuffed animal. 

"I thought you were going to freak out," America mutters, "I've been saying it to myself since I talked to you in the hospital." 

"You are not the only one," Russia admits quietly. 

America giggles happily into Russia's shoulder. 

"This doesn't feel real," America says, his tone ecstatic. 

Giddy feelings fill Russia's head as he smiles up at America. 

"Y'all got to keep it down," Kentucky says, "it's getting hard to see Hamp's car." 

Russia nods, and America nuzzles the top of his head. 

'Nice. This is nice,' Russia thinks, and his mind waking up with the heat. Russia tucks his hands under America's shirt. 

"Hey," America complains quietly, a playful smile on his face, "your stealing my heat." 

"That's the point," Russia whispers. 

America laughs quietly. 

"Hey," Arizona says, "can you guys clear a seat so I'm not stuck upfront?"

Russ pulls his legs off the last seat, and Arizona climbs back. Kentucky protests, but not for long. 

Arizona bounces her legs with boundless energy and Russia smiles lightly. 

'I will protect these kids. All of them,' Russia vows to himself. 

"How're you doing kiddo?" America asks, propping his chin in Russia's hair. 

"Doing good," Arizona chirps.

Then the radio comes to life.

"Hey," Philippines voice rings out from the front console, "where are we going anyway?"

"Just away from here," America says. California takes the radio and repeats the sentiment.


	24. Rabid

Russia snuggles against America's chest and smiles. He breaths in deeply and relaxes. He puts special attention to ignore how the car was being driven so he doesn't backseat drive. He knew if he paid it too much attention, he might panic at how inept Kentucky is at driving in the winter weather. He carefully squeezes his fingers together, and sits up a little, curling up against America. America squirms. 

"Hey," America whines, "that tickles." 

Russia hums. 

"You are ridiculous," America mutters, leaning back.

They sit quietly and America begins petting the top of Russia's head, and Russia closes his eyes. Russia lets his mind wander, feeling relaxed, but not tired enough to fall asleep.

'Love warm magic man...'

'Love -my- warm magic man...'

Russia smiles at the thoughts. His chest fills with fluttery feelings. He pushes up on the seat and into America. America laughs quietly.

"You're like a god d*** cat," America comments, kissing Russia's forehead. 

Russia grins and tucks his face into America's collar. He relaxes.

The car ride is calm. 

Too calm.

'Something is going to go wrong.' 

The thought swirls around Russia's head, but he does his best to shake it off. 

Russia pokes his head up and pecks America's cheek, trying his best to repress his shivers. America brushed Russia's hair off his forehead and smiles at him.

"How are you feeling?" America asks, affection in his tone. 

"Better," Russia mutters, tucking his face into America's chest. 

America playfully pokes the side of his face and Russia scrunches his nose. America giggles.

"Come on. You got to get dressed now that you're feeling better." 

"Nooo... it's too cold," Russia whines, his voice muffled. 

"Nope. If we are gonna be around my kids, you are wearing a shirt in front of them."

Russia groans but gives in, reluctantly pulling away and sitting up in his own seat. America picks up his clothes that had been shoved to the floor in front of the heaters and shakes off the crumbs it had accumulated on them.

"Seems dry enough," America comments, handing to Russia. Arizona purposefully looks outside to the white blanket outside. 

Russia pulls it back over his head. It still has some cold spots but doesn't feel wet anymore. As soon as he has it situated, America hands him his pants. 

Russia smirks at America.

"What?" America says, a strange look on his face.

Russia's smirk just widens a little and slowly takes his clothes, staring America in the eyes. 

America's face suddenly goes bright red and he averts his eyes. Russia's concentration broke and he can't help but begin laughing almost hysterically, covering his mouth in a vain attempt to quiet himself.

"Hurry up and put them on," America says, averting his eyes and puffing his cheeks out. 

Russia struggles for a second because of the laughter shaking his frame. He manages to pull them on and giggles. Russia's head falls against America's shoulder, trying to muffle his laughter behind his hands. He pulls the blankets back around his shoulders, wrapping himself up and buckling the seat. He leans against America, and throws the blanket's ends over America, tucking them around America's back. 

'I love messing with you. Making your face red is my new favorite hobby.' 

"You are such an a**hole," America mutters. 

Russia smiles. 

After some time riding with his head on America's shoulder, Russia stares outside at the falling snow. He tenses with every car passing in the opposite direction, but none of them stop or turn around, so Russia doesn't think any more of them.

Soon, they pull off the road and pulls into a gas station. America grabs Russia's jacket from the hook it had been hung on and wrinkles his nose. 

"It's still wet," America complains. 

Russia groans. America untangles himself and hops out of the car. Russia shivers as cold wind blasts into the car until America closes the door. Russia tightens his hold on his blankets and shivers violently as the heat is turned off. 

He stays in the car while America accompanies the first group of teens inside with some cash. Kentucky is outside waiting to pump gas, bundled up so much he looks like a giant marshmallow. 

Normally, Russia would've laughed, but right now, he wished he had those kinds of winter clothes. Russia pulls on the still damp boots and hat.

America returns soon after, with the first group, something clutched in his hands. America approaches the car and pulls open the door. He leans in and hands Russia a cheap jacket. California swaps places with Kentucky and Texas takes New Hampshire's place to finished pumping gas. 

Kentucky and New Hampshire walk inside side by side.

"It's cheap, but it'll work for now," America says, "come on."

Russia shrugs off the blankets and pulls on the jacket and picks up the scarf Arizona had given him. The jacket is thin and the material is cheap, but the scarf is snug and warm. He promises himself to always take good care of it. 

America reaches out a hand and helps Russia out. Russia stumbles a little when his feet hit the ground. America catches Russia and Russia's face goes flush.

They walk inside and Russia stays close. Kentucky and New Hampshire walk back out together. He breathes a sigh of relief knowing that all the kids had gotten back into the cars safely. They disappear behind the bathroom door. 

America looks up with a smirk and gives a questioning tilt of the head. Russia smiles in consent. 

America wraps his hands around the back of Russia's neck. America stares up into Russia's eyes. Russia feels an uncomfortable pang at seeing America's eye, but the loving look on America's face steals Russia's attention. Russia smiles softly. 

America pulls Russia down into a deep kiss. Russia's eyes widen for a moment before he lets them fall shut and he puts his hands under America's shirt. America shivers and smiles against Russia's lips.

America slips his tongue into Russia's mouth, exploring. Russia returns the favor, and he gets lost in the sensations. His hands drop to America's waist. He grabs America and pulls him in by the hips. America tugs Russia's hair lightly. Russia pulls America as close as he could manage, kissing America deeply. 

America pushes back with the same passion and Russia loses himself completely in the make-out session. 

He feels around America's body until America pulls away. Russia looks on with half lid eyes and America smiles up at him. America kisses his nose before pulling out of the embrace. 

"I've been waiting for that," America says with a giggle, tracing his thumb on Russia's cheek, "but we have to get going soon. I'm going to go buy some snacks for the road. Find me when you're done in here, okay?" 

Russia nods, watching America leave. America turns around at the door and blows Russia a kiss with a wink. Russia blushes and rubs the back of his neck. 

Russia shakes his head and listlessly goes about his business, lost in thoughts about America's smile. 

Russia shakes the water off his hands and walks out. He hears America shout from behind the shelves. He rushes over and sees America wrestling on the floor with a thrashing casher. 

"*What happened?*" Russia asks, helping restrain the casher. 

"*I don't know! I was just trying to pay for the snacks.*" 

Russia leans his weight on the cashier's back as the man thrashes and spits, frothing at the mouth. 

"*Grab the food. I will be behind you.*" 

America nods and gathers everything into bags he snatches from behind the counter. America stares up at the racks of cigarettes for a moment before shaking his head and rushing to the door. The second America pushes the door open, Russia jumps up and scrambles away. 

The cashier grabs his ankle and tries to bite him, gnawing on his boot. Russia kicks him off in a panic, stomping hard on the cashier's wrist, breaking it with an audible snap. Russia stumbles forward as soon as he was released, and the two run to the truck. Russia hops into the driver's seat and America flies into the passenger seat. Russia starts the car and locks the door. 

"Lock the doors," Russia demands into the radio. 

"Roger. Also, Ham-" Philippines says. 

A muffled call of "don't call me that" rings out in the background. 

"-says she isn't driving anymore today." 

"I will drive in front. Who is driving your car?" 

"New Mexico." 

"Okay, follow us," Russia says before handing the radio to America to hook-up back onto the radio set. 

Russia quickly pulls out of the spot and waits for New Mexico to get behind him. The cashier shambles out of the doors, his eyes rolled back.

"Does everyone see the zombie?" Philippines asks through the radio.

"Yes, we see it. We're leaving," America replies.

Russia pulls out onto the salted road. Luckily, the snowfall is much lighter than it had been. The tires plow through the slush on the roads, throwing it up onto the undercarriage of the truck. Russia sighs, trying to calm his racing heartbeat.

"Are you okay?" America asks.

"Yes. Are you?" Russia replies.

"Yeah. I was able to push him off before he could hurt me. Thanks for the help by the way."

"No need."

America sighs. America reaches over and takes hold of Russia's hand, playing with his fingers. 

"Honestly, I would've expected you to try to stop me," America mutters, looking away.

"Why would I?"

"I don't know," America mumbles, "most people just think stuff like that is my fault. Thought you would've thought the same."

Russia sighs.

"Your fault or not, I support you," Russia says. 

America holds Russia's hand tightly. 

"I care about you and support you," Russia says quietly, avoiding America's gaze. 

"I love you," America says quietly.

America picks up Russia's hand and presses it on his cheek. Russia glances over and sees America smiling softly, wiping tears off his face with his free hand. 

"I love you too," Russia says quietly, moving and rubbing America's arm.

America chuckles and leans in. Russia smiles.

"Where are we headed?" Russia asks.

"We're going home," America says.

"Home?"

"Sorry, back to base with Dixie and them," America says.

Russia nods and America begins navigating him back to Utah.


	25. Oh Brother

The rest of the travel goes without issue. 

Mostly.

'At least we didn't have a huge fight,' Russia thinks as he drives. 

The closer he drives to the base, the more nervous he gets. Sure, Dixie wasn't a country anymore, but Russia couldn't help but feel worried. 

America puts a hand on top of Russia's own, which had a death grip on the clutch. 

"Hey," America says softly, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Oh come on. I know you're nervous. What's going on in that head of yours?"

"What is Dixie going to do? What are the states and Canada going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"When they see your face. Your eye," Russia chokes, moving his hands to clutch the wheel with white knuckles. 

"..."

Russia sighs and tries to ignore his racing heart. 

"Don't worry too much," Arizona says. 

Russia glances into the rearview mirror with a nervous look before returning his gaze to the road. 

"Hey, you got Bama, Sippi, and Tex on your side, you'll be fine," Kentucky says, but his tone makes Russia think he's trying to reassure himself more than Russia, "They won't let nothing happen to you and Dix 'll listen to them if they say you're good."

Russia takes a deep breath and stares ahead, getting ready to turn off the main road. He pulls off and drives down through the winding roads, surrounded by trees. He takes a deep breath and pulls to a stop. 

America hopes out and walks inside to announce their arrival and the states hope out and begin unloading luggage. Russia gets out but feels jumpy.

"You B******!" Dixie screams, and Russia sees him charge around the corner of the building. 

"Dixie! Wait!" America yells, chasing after him. 

Before Russia can raise his arms to cover his face, Dixie reels back and decks him in the jaw. Russia's head jerks back and stars flicker in his vision. He stumbles back and clutches his head. Russia groans and forces his eyes open.

His vision is blurry, but when his eyes finally focus, he sees America wrestling Dixie back. 

"DIXIE! STOP! PLEASE!"

"NO! LOOK AT WHAT HE DID TO YOU! HE BLINDED YOU! YOU TOLD ME HE CUT YOUR FACE, NOT DESTROYED YOU EYE!"

"I DIDN'T GIVE HIM A CHOICE!"

"That's gonna leave a mark," Massachusetts comments, his arms crossed. 

"You're not going to attack me?" Russia mumbles.

"Tex already told us that it happened to protect Ari. I don't understand why Dixie is so god d*** mad." 

"He's mad because I did it."

"What?"

"I'm the one who slashed at his face," Russia mutters, covering his face in shame. Angry lime green magic feels the air and Massachusetts begins shouting.

"So you hurt him! You motherf***er! Why the f*** did you do that?!"

"I didn't mean to," Russia mumbles.

Dixie struggles away from America and charges at Russia, pinning him to a tree. Russia winces and meets Dixie's gaze. Dixie's eyes are ablaze with rage. 

"WHAT DID YOU DO YOU F***ER?!"

"D! Stop!" Texas screams, waving his arms and trying to pull him off with America, "please! We'll explain everything! I promise, but you gotta let him go!" 

Dixie growls but allows them to pull him off. Russia drops to his feet but slips, landing hard on his back. He scrambles to his feet and readies himself for another hit.

"What in God's name could possibly justify THAT?!" Dixie screams, waving to America.

Russia looks down, and guilt slams into his chest. 

'I don't know. I'm sorry.'

"Dix, please. I was attacking him and almost killed him. He had to do something," America defends, throwing his arms into the air out of exasperation.

Dixie huffs.

"Y'all are telling me everything or Russ ain't staying without getting through me," Dixie threatens, glaring at Russia before turning around and stomps back inside. 

Russia takes a moment to breathe and America runs forward, taking Russia's shoulders.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Wow, he gave you quite the shiner huh," America mutters, "I'm sorry."

"You're fine. I deserved it."

"Don't be like that," America says, swatting at Russia's shoulder, "I'm going to go try to work this out. Do you wanna come with?"

Russia pauses. America sighs. 

"I'll talk to him," Texas says from behind America, "Tuck will help me explain. Y'all can stay out here if you want."

"Thanks," America says.

Texas nods and hurries inside after Dixie. America turns back to Russia with a guilty look before hugging him tightly. Russia holds him until he pulls away.

America gently reaches up and grasps Russia's face, brushing a thumb over the bright red mark. Russia winces.

"Sorry," America mutters, pulling away, but Russia grabs him before he pulls away completely. Russia pulls him into a hug.

"I'm cold," Russia groans.

"Come on," America replies, "We should get you inside."

They walk inside, and heat hits Russia immediately. He straightens a little in surprise. America pushes him inside and closes the door. Electric heaters are against the back wall under the lip of the upper floor. A few cold drafts drift through the walls, but the building is better insulated than a cheap camping tent would have been

"Come on," America says, tugging Russia closer to the back wall. 

Russia walks over with America and sits down in front of one of them.

"Don't sit on the floor," America scolds, but his tone is playful.

America sets up one of the mats stacked against the wall on the floor and tugs Russia ontop of it. Russia goes limp with a smirk and traps a squirming America against the map.

"Hey. Get off!" America whines, playfully pushing Russia.

"Oh no. I can't get up," Russia complains lightly, throwing his arms back.

"Dude!" 

Russia laughs for a moment before seeing Dixie approaching them. His laughter dies and he sits up stiffly. Dixie glares down at him, but his eyes soften glancing at America. 

"Tell me what happened," Dixie demands. 

Dixie drops to the ground in front of them, sticking a boot out in Russia's direction and glaring at him, an order for answers clear in his eyes. 

"I-" Russia starts, but America puts a hand on his thigh and shakes his head. Russia goes quiet.

"I was hallucinating and I attacked Russia. I nearly killed him and cu- I nearly killed him and cut Ari in half. The only reason I couldn't was because Russ was protecting her," America says, choking up halfway through. Russia looks over, wanting to comfort him, but doesn't dare move toward him with DIxie standing nearby.

"Okay, and how in the h*** did you get that?" Dixie asks, pointing at America's eye.

"What? My eye?"

"Yeah. Can you see out of it?"

"No."

Dixie's face goes dark and he gives Russia a nasty glare, before returning his attention to America.

"Well, how did it happen?"

"I cornered him and tried to kill him. Self-defense is a thing, Dixie."

Dixie grunts. 

"I didn't mean to," Russia blurts out.

"What?" Dixie snaps.

"I didn't mean to. I didn't want to hurt him," Russia says honestly, staring into Dixie's angry and skeptical gaze.

Dixie hums.

"I'm sorry. I hate it. I didn't want to hurt him," Russia mumbles, looking down. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat and blink away the tears in the corners of his eyes. 

Dixie leans in close and stares for a second before unwrapping the scarf. Dixie examines it and sighs. The anger fades from his gaze and he looks almost apologetic, but Russia doesn't look up to get a better look.

"Jeez, I didn't think I hit ya that hard," Dixie mutters, examining Russia's face. 

"Yeah, it's gonna leave a mark," America comments. 

Dixie rolls his eyes before offering a hand to America. America takes it with a grin. Dixie pulls him up and into a tight hug. 

"I'm glad all y'all got back home okay."

"I know."

They pull back and America glares at Dixie.

"What?"

"You hit my boyfriend. I'm allowed to be mad."

"Fine. I guess that's true," Dixie says before turning to Russia, "sorry Ruski. You good?"

Russia nods and relaxes a little. Dixie turns back to America with crossed arms.

"Why didn't you tell me anything about this?" Dixie asks, waving over his own face where America was hurt.

"I didn't want you to freak out."

Dixie rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

"You know me too well," Dixie says, punching America's shoulder. 

America pushes him away with a huff. Dixie turns his attention back to Russia with a calculating gaze. America walks off to talk with Canada but glances over his shoulder at Russia several times on his journey.

Russia looks up and Dixie sighs.

"Maybe I judged you too harshly," Dixie grumbles, "Now don't be getting confused, I don't like you. Not with what you've done to Amy. And you're lucky Tex has some semblance of authority over most of them youngins cuz I would've had them help me. But I'll give you another chance."

Russia nods and Dixie gives one last glare, though not nearly as harsh as the first one had been.

"And you had better get your act together. If I see anything like that ever again on my brother, you're toast. You understand me?"

Russia nods emphatically and Dixie flashes a smirk. 

"Good."

Dixie walks off to talk with the other returning states, a bright smile returning to his face, and Russia slumps over out of relief. America rushes over and kneels in front of him with worry in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" America asks.

"Your brother does not like me."

America laughs.

"Yeah, I guess not," America comments.

Russia smiles, and America kisses his forehead.

"Did he say anything?"

"No."

"I know he threatened you," America says pointedly. Russia looks away.

"Yes, he did," Russia agrees.

America chuckles and shakes his head.

"What is it going to take to get him to like you?" America mutters.

'I'd have to move mountains.'


	26. Grinding

America stays attached to Russia, which Russia is grateful for. Most of the other residents glare at him with flames in their eyes. The others that had seen the incident looked over in pity. 

Russia trains his eyes on the ground.

'Maybe I shouldn't be here.'

America looks at him with a loving smile, but Russia still can't help but noticing the intense anger from the states around him. 

'But I can't leave Stars here alone. He needs my help.'

Russia's gaze returns to his shoes.

'I love him. I can't just disappear.'

Russia swallows back the lump in his throat and America tugs on his hand to get his attention.

'But the idea is tempting.'

Russia looks up and forces a smile. America sighs before lying down, putting his head in Russia's lap. Russia froze. 

Rage fills the air, and Russia feels apprehensive but forces himself to return the affection. He carefully threads his fingers through America's hair and America picks up one of the blankets and pulls it over himself.

"Are you okay?" Russia asks, looking away from the others in the room. 

"Yeah, I'm okay," America says, "I just want to cuddle with you. You got a problem with that?"

Russia vehemently shakes his head. America smiles. Russia looks up again and sees the children staring at him, but instead of anger, their eyes are full of confusion. 

"*Just go along with it,*" America mutters, "*they'll figure it out.*"

Russia nods numbly. America shifts, leaning into Russia, and Russia leans against the wall next to him, draping his arms around America's shoulders. America props up the papers for Russia to see and Russia tries his best to read along. 

He's pulled out of his concentration by a strange shrieking noise outside that sounds distant. His head pops up and he tries to concentrate on the noise. The states talk loudly among themselves, so Russia can't hear anything. Russia slowly stands up. America sits up.

"What's wrong?"

"I heard something outside."

America hums. Russia puts the cheap jacket and offers a hand to America. America reaches up to take Russia's hand but misses. Russia gets ready to just grab America's hand when America shakes his head.

"No. I need to figure out how to do this by myself," America says.

It takes America a few more tries to manage to brush fingers with Russia. The delight that lights up his face fills Russia's stomach with happy butterflies. America reaches a little further and grabs on, and Russia pulls him to his feet. Russia leans over and grabs his scarf and wraps it snuggly around his neck. 

America smiles. Russia leads America outside, and he sits down on a step. America sits next to him. 

Shrieking rings out from the trees. 

Except it doesn't sound like shrieking.

"What is that?" Russia mutters.

"I don't know," America mumbles, summoning his scythe. 

The sound rings out again. Now outside, it sounds more like a high pitched metallic noise, like metal grinding against itself. 

Russia backs up into the door, and he hits it with his fist with a loud thud. Then, he walks along the wall, feeling around for a weapon. His fingers find the end of a loose pipe, which Russia pulls up and hosts onto his shoulder. The pipe is heavy, a lot heavier than Russia had been expecting, and it smells of iron.

Russia rushes back to America's side, and they stand back to back. Russia fervently looks around and pushes America toward the door.

"What are you doing?" America hisses. 

"Get help," Russia hisses back.

The noise sounds again. It's closer now.

America grumbles but pulls the door open. But before he could say a word, the noise echoes again, and the chaos inside the building suddenly goes silent. Russia looks around before turning and looking up.

"*F***,*" Russia mutters, his eyes wide.

Something crawls on the room of the building like a large four-legged spider. Its body is black. It has a main body and four joints, one on each leg. Its joints are enlarged and its legs are sharp. 

It doesn't have a face. At least, not one Russia can see. 

Then, a hole opens under its main body and razor-sharp teeth make themselves visible. The creature grinds them together.

The noise is piercing and impossibly loud. 

Its body is almost 2 meters above the ground and it easily scales the wall of the building, closing in on the door. 

Russia blinks in shock before he leaps forward. He grabs America by the arm and he tries to yank America back in a panic. America begins pulling away with a shout but Russia refuses to release his arm. He hears Dixie shout at him to let go, but Russia's blinding terror doesn't let him process the words. 

Russia violently pulls America back, and the two tumble to the snow-dusted ground. 

Crack!

Russia grunts and pulls himself to his feet. He looks up and sees that the monster had struck, its sharp leg embedded into the steps. It climbs down with nimble movements, pulling its leg out of the crater. 

"Russia! What the fu...." America mumbles, trailing off.

Russia can see Dixie scrambling back away from the door, shock plastered on his face. 

Slime leaks from the creature's mouth, and staining the ground a pale, greyish purple color. It looks like the consistency of mucus. Russia readies himself to strike, pipe in hand. 

The slime smells sweet, almost like varenye. 

One of the states pokes their head out, and they begin creeping toward a pile of slime, seemingly not seeing the monster creeping nearby. Russia's eyes fly back to the monster as it crawls up the wall away from the door.

"DON'T F***ING TOUCH THAT!" America screams, his voice cracking horribly. The state jumps away and scrambles back inside. 

Dixie runs out, gun in hand, and he jumps over the stairs. Dixie runs in front of America, and his arms go slack. 

"What in God's name?" Dixie mutters, readjusting his grip on the gun. 

Russia reels the pipe back and runs at the creature, standing in between America and Dixie and the monstrosity. The thing climbs to the ground, and it seems weightless. Its feet have pointed tips, but the ends are visible even when it stands on them. Even on small piles of snow, it stands on it. 

The monster begins convulsing and its mouth protrudes out. It looks like something is crawling under its skin and it begins to vomit. But it wasn't right. It looked like someone was pumping a thick smile through a firehose.

Russia fights his nausea and he creeps forward. He avoids being in the splash zone for the slime and stares. 

The thing stops and pauses for a second. Russia's hair stands on end. 

The thing springs at him, and a whining noise escapes from the back of Russia's throat. Russia rolls out of the path of the legs and leaps back to his feet. He swings at the thing and the pipe rings at the impact. 

'Definitely solid.'

'But then how is it not leaving footprints in the snow?'

The thing grinds its teeth and shots ring out. Russia spins around sees Dixie shooting the thing with a deep scowl. America rushes to Russia and begins trying to swipe his scythe at its legs. America manages to hack off the end of its leg. 

The leg falls to the ground like a hollow stick. 

The beast gnashes its teeth. The thing opens its mouth and Russia feels his head vibrate, but he can't make out any audible sound. His ears were filled with throbbing pain. He covers his ears, and he could 'hear' his hands vibrating against his head. 

The thing scuttles away on its three legs, leaving the disembodied leg in the pile of snow. It knowingly maneuvered around the trees and disappears from view. 

A few states crowd around the piles of slime and America runs forward. Russia runs with him and he sees that they are staring at it, and their eyes glazed over. Louisiana, Connecticut, and Massachusetts are flanked by Arizona and a few others as they try to herd their family members back. 

But it was like herding cats.

"Do NOT touch that!" America screams.

Texas' head shoots up and the glazed look disappears. Immediately, he spins and shoves people back. They fall over each other like dominoes and many of them climb over each other retreating with primal fear in their eyes and mystified looks on their faces. 

"BACK UP!" Dixie screams, firing a bullet into the air to snap the children out of their trance. States and provinces kick away and some of them begin to shriek in horror. Russia runs over to Maryland, who is frozen in place. 

Maryland stands with her knees shaking, her hand filled with slime and close to her face. She stares at it in horror.

"Drop it," Russia instructs. As soon as he says it, Maryland drops it and buries her hand into the snow and dirt to wipe it off. 

The cold was beginning to eat away at Russia, but he clenches his teeth. 

"Let me see your hands," Russia says, holding out his own numbing, shaking hands. Maryland places her hands palms up into his and Russia pulls them up to examine them. 

They look normal, without irritation or any rash. 

"Do they feel okay?"

"They feel numb," Maryland mutters.

Russia hums, turning her hands over, and doesn't see any injury. 

"That could be because of the cold," Russia mumbles, "we need to warm up your hands before we can tell the damage."

Maryland shakily nods and retreats inside. Russia walks back inside and begins surveying the group.

"Who touched it?" Russia asks loudly.

Maryland is the only one to respond. Russia nods and America sighs in relief. 

The siblings surround Maryland with questions as she stands in the center of the chaos, just staring at her hands. Russia looks away and makes eye contact with America, who looked just as concerned as Russia felt.

"She says her hands are numb," Russia says. 

America nods stiffly and quickly walks over to Maryland. Russia looks around and sees Dixie holding the dismembered leg and examining the hole in the step. 

Russia wanders over and looks at it. He feels his heart drop. It looked like someone had taken a hole punch to the stone. 

'That could've been America.'

'That could've been him.'

Delayed panic settled in, and Russia feels his breathing sped up a little. His shivering gets worse and he back peddles into the building. 

Dixie glances up and approaches Russia. Russia takes a step back and tries to calm himself down. Dixie grabs his arm and guilds him back to the mat America had set up earlier and Russia falls back onto it.

Russia curls up, trying to process what he had just seen.

'What was that?'

'What is the stuff that was everywhere?'

'Why were the states trying to... eat it?'

His stomach twists.


	27. Reports of the Past

'In through nose, out through mouth.'

Russia shakes slightly and tries his best to calm himself down. Finally, when his blurry vision calms, he shakily stands and searches the room for America. As soon as Russia spots America, he makes a beeline for him. He wants to wrap his arms tightly around America but ends up standing behind him. Russia tries to keep himself under control, forcing his arms to his sides. 

Being close to America did make him feel a little safer.

Canada shouts for a roll call. As soon as it was over, Finland and Dixie barricaded the exits. 

America examines Maryland's hands and sighs. America turns and jumps when he sees Russia. 

"Jesus!" America shouts before groaning, "I'm going to have to get used to that."

Russia's eyes fall to the floor. He shakes off the guilt as best he could and his concern for Maryland returns.

"How's Maryland?" Russia asks.

"Her hands are still numb, but I don't think there's anything I can do. I don't sense any physical or magic injury," America says, worry in his tone. 

"That's not good," Russia comments.

"Yeah. Right now, we might just have to wait. If we're lucky, it's temporary. It should be, I don't sense any nerve damage."

Russia nods and jumps a foot in the air when movement approaches him from his right. He spins around and sees Texas standing behind him with a startled look and an outstretched arm.

"Whoa howdy, are you alright?" Texas asks, taking a step back.

Russia sighs.

"I'm fine," Russia insists.

America turns to Russia and gives him a skeptical look but he shakes it off. 

"Mare," America says, turning back to his daughter, "stay close to Illinois and tell me if anything changes, okay?"

Maryland gives a shaky sigh and turns around, walking off. Illinois takes Maryland into a hug and helps calm her down. America sighs and his shoulders slump. America turns to Russia and latches onto his torso. He hugs for a moment before pulling back and looking Russia over. 

"Are you hurt?" America asks. 

Russia shakes his head. "Are you?"

"No, I'm fine," America says with a shaking tone with a sigh.

Russia takes America's hands to his chest and America leans against him on top of their hands. Their foreheads touch and Russia sighs. He opens his eyes and admires America's face but jumps back when he sees motion in his peripheral vision. 

"*God d*** it,*" Russia mutters under his breath.

"You're being pretty jumpy, are you sure you're okay?" America asks. 

'No.'

"Yes, I'm fine," Russia says.

'I don't want to bother you.'

"You don't need to worry," Finland chimes in from the corner, cleaning one of the guns, "we won't let anything get in."

Russia nods and smiles at those around him. Most of the kids look skeptical of him, but even then, they look more trusting than they had been before.

'Why do they look like that? What did they see through the door?'

Someone puts a hand on his shoulder and Russia stiffens, spinning around. He comes face to face with Dixie, and he steps back. Dixie's face scrunched up for a second before offering Russia a neutral expression. Dixie opens his mouth to say something but doesn't get the chance.

Then someone hugs Russia from behind. Russia holds back the instinct to elbow the person for a moment and he hears America giggling. A squeak emits from the back of Russia's throat when America lifts him up off the ground.

America marches them over to his mat and he dumps Russia onto it. Russia laughs.

"Rue Rue, you need to warm up," America says, waggling his finger with his hand on his hip, "don't want you to get sick." 

America turns to leave and Russia reaches out, wanting to ask him to stay there with him, but drops his arm.

'The kids need him more than I do right now.'

Russia carefully takes off the scarf and tosses his jacket to the side, wrapping himself in a fuzzy blanket and putting his back to the wall. He carefully scans the room, taking stock of everything in the building. 

Someone sits beside him and Russia jerks, spinning around to stare at them. He tries to calm himself down.

Colorado smiles from next to him and North Dakoda sits on Colorado's left. 

"Heya Russ."

Russia smiles. "Hello."

"So... could you tell us about what kind of stuff you guys saw when you were gone?"

"From before?"

"Just start from when you left the house."

Russia thinks back and his memories begin to swirl.

'It has been such a long time since I've seen the big house,' he realizes. This thought comes with a bittersweet feeling.

"When we first left the house," Russia begins, "we tried to track America's location with magic, but that only brought trouble."

"What do you mean?" Colorado asks.

"We didn't find America. We found monsters that crawled like spiders and one of them jumped off a cliff. We also saw..." 

Images of the confusing sights he had seen in the trees flash in his mind. 

"Stairs."

"Wait, stairs?" Iowa interrupts. 

Russia jolts up a little and he looks around in shock. He sees that instead of only having a few states sitting around him, he is the epicenter of a huge group. He watches how all of the states, provinces, and countries sit around on mats and blankets, listening to every word.

"Yeah," Massachusetts says, "They were clean and covered in white carpeting."

"That's bull," Alabama says with crossed arms.

"No, it was real," Texas emphasizes, "I started walking over to it before I even knew what I was doing. Russ over here stopped me before I touched 'em."

Russia nods in confirmation before continuing.

"We were attacked by monsters and we started finding cameras when we started exploring a cave system. When we got deeper, the walls started shaking. We tried to escape when a rock fell and trapped us inside."

Russia raises his arms to emphasize the shaking.

"It almost crushed me," Canada adds, and the provinces crowd around him with gasps.

"Then there was the knocking on the walls. It led us out of there. Kind of," Texas says.

"What do you mean 'Kind of'?" Delaware asks nervously.

"Well, it led us out onto a ledge and the ledge crumbles," Russia says, "we fell into the trees."

"You fell?! From where?" America squeaks.

"I'd say 20 stories up. I was crashing down and thought I was finna die," Louisiana adds, "I just remember waking up in a tent with Texas sleepin' next to me."

"Ute found us," Canada says. 

Colorado cheers, "See, I told you it was a good idea!"

"Then, we were kidnapped," Russia says, and the children go quiet.

"And Texas wasn't feeling too good neither," Louisiana adds, "'pparently he was havin' some bad weather and it was making him sick. We had to hold back for a little while."

Texas looks away, his hat hiding his face. "'m sorry Dad. I tried to keep lookin'. I tried."

"Tex, you couldn't even f***ing stand," Massachusetts snarks, "and we weren't going to leave you behind."

"I was not going to let you walk into a trap when you couldn't defend yourself," Russia defends. 

"Was still a trap anyway," Texas mutters.

"All of you, come here," America demands, gathering Louisiana, Massachusetts, and Texas into a hug.

"Dad, we're okay!" Texas says, "we're all okay."

"Don't you dare tell me not to worry!" America exclaims, "you shouldn't have been involved. You guys almost died! I am allowed to dote on you for a few minutes." 

Massachusetts rolls his eyes but doesn't pull away. 

"We were attacked by a bunch of dead animals. It was gross," Russia says blandly, his nose wrinkles, "and a bunch of monsters came out to drag us down into the mineshaft that we were looking at."

"I tried to shoot one of 'em and it ricocheted back at me. It hit me in the shoulder," Texas explains, rolling up his leave to show off his patch of scar tissue that contrasts drastically with the skin on his arm. 

"Tex, I don't know who you're fooling, but that ain't a bullet wound," New Mexico remarks.

"Well, I don't remember much," Texas admits, "but it hurt."

"The monsters started digging into your shoulder," Russia elaborates with a shiver, "I tried to hit the one holding me to help you, but I cut myself."

America winces. 

"I tried to disinfect everything, but Russ' hatchet still had stuff from the animals, so I didn't have much luck," Louisiana says.

America spins to Russia and stares with wide eyes and even Finland looks surprised.

"No wonder your leg was so bad," America mutters.

"Then we found Finland and were trying to find you based on your magic," Russia says, looking at America.

"Did you find him?"

"Dude, shut up. Don't be a dumba**."

"America found us," Russia admits.

"Phil is the only reason I actually came to investigate," America says, and Philippines shows a bright smile. 

"I'm glad you did," Canada says, "we were in a pretty bad spot."

"Then we got out of the caves into a building. We think it is a military base," Russia says, "Massachusetts got a phone and he called you." 

The states nod and soon, questions begin flying around the room, and Russia tries his best to field as many as he could. 

The stories are still worrying, but talking about them was a good distraction from the slime still sitting outside.

America stands up and hugs Canada tightly. After a few minutes, America leaves Canada to his providences and walks over to Russia, smiling softly.

"You guys went through a lot," America mumbles, leaning his head on Russia's shoulder, "I'm happy we all made it out okay." 

They sit quietly before America sits up a little.

"Have you talked to your dad?" America asks. 

Russia shakes his head.

"Well, you should. You promised to tell him what we found, right?"

"Yes, I did."

"You should do it. Maybe not now, it's loud. But you should call him later tonight."

Russia nods in agreement. America sighs and Russia laces his fingers in America's and smiles. America leans up and kisses Russia's chin. Russia leans his head on America's head and relaxes. Chatter surrounds them, and Texas and Massachusetts loudly go into detail about what they had been through. Russia tunes them out the best he can and smiles at America.

'Hopefully, we will find something to stop this,' Russia thinks, 'I just want to go home with Meri.'


	28. A Brother Gone

Russia tunes out most of the talking until he sees one of the providences standing by the window with a concerned look. Apparently, he wasn't the only one to notice.

"Hey Sassafras, what's going on?" Ontario asks, approaching the window. 

"I don't know. Some animals are being weird outside," Saskatchewan replies, concern in his voice.

That catches Russia's attention. 

Russia kisses America's forehead and stands up. He hurriedly walks over to the window and pokes his head out. The provinces clear the way for him and allow him a clear view of the baffling sight outside. 

He stares dumbfounded as bears, deer, rabbits, and other animals that Russia couldn't fully make out all begin to gather around the slime and eat it. It seemed as though they had no interest in each other, and didn't seem to notice others around them. They eat and Russia watches as the rabbits begin to fall. At first, they looked almost drunk, but they began to topple over and stop moving.

The smaller animals fall first, and as Russia watches the display, the bears and deer stumble and begin to fight over the 'food'. Neither seemed to care that they were being disemboweled. It reminded him of the carcasses he had hacked apart in front of the mine.

Russia watches, almost mesmerized, as the larger animals go down. The bears lie down on the ground and Russia watches as the creature's breathing slows significantly until it stops for longer than it had and it didn't start again. 

Russia waits for one of them to rise back up from the ground and begin attacking the fortress, but they don't. The animals just lay there, dead. 

Russia spins back to the room full of people and claps his hands, shouting, "Look at me!"

Heads spin to stare.

"If you ate the stuff outside, I need to know. NOW!" Russia demands hit tone tight and angry. 

He is met with sincere shakes of the head.

Russia sighs. America runs up to his side. 

"What's wrong?"

"Animals outside were eating it and they seem dead now."

America swallows thickly.

"That's not good."

Russia nods.

"I will keep watch," Russia says. 

"I will help," Finland volunteers, escaping the kids that surround her, a rifle in hand. Russia nods in appreciation.

"I want to help as well," America says. Russia shakes his head.

"You need to rest," Russia says.

"What do you mean I need to rest?" America complains.

"You were not well when you were not sleeping," Russia recalls aloud.

"I'm fine now," America emphasizes, holding his arms out as if to prove his point.

Russia shoots him a skeptical look and America pouts.

"He's right you know," Dixie comments, leaning against the barrel of his shotgun, "you need sleep, Amy. In fact, I don't think you should be leaving again any time soon."

America groans. "Fine! Fine. I'll go and sit over there. All alone," he whines.

Russia rolls his eyes and scoffs lightly. "The states will keep you company," he says with a smile that he fails to hide. 

America huffs and crosses his arms like a child. Russia rolls his eyes and smiles softly.

'So stubborn.'

America throws his arms in the air and stomps away to the mat. The children giggle at his antics. Russia grins. 

"Don't worry Dad!" Nevada shouts, "we won't leave you alone!"

"Everyone pile on Dad!" Arizona shouts, throwing her hands into the air. 

The children cheer and the states and the Philippines jump ontop of America with the provinces yelling encouragements. America is rocked with laughter from under the pile. Russia shakes his head at the scene.

He returns his eyes to the outside with Finland at his side. He tenses slightly before forcing himself to relax. 

'She is an ally now,' he scolds himself, 'do not make this any harder than it already is.'

Finland mutters something under her breath which Russia could only imagine was a comment about the strangeness of the situation.

"Do you think it will return?" Finland asks, cocking the rifle.

Russia jumps before answering. "I don't know. I don't see why."

"That stuff was a trap. But it might not have been for just us. I mean look, it killed them."

"But why would it..?" Russia says, trailing off.

"Maybe for food," Finland says with a shrug, "it might come back to eat."

Russia hums, mulling over the possibility. He stares blankly at the pile of corpses until movement catches his eye from the tree line. Russia's head jerks up and he zeros in on the blurry black shape snaking between the trunks of trees surrounding the base.

"Do you see that?" Russia mutters.

"What?"

Russia points to the shadows slinking around just out of eyesight.

"What is that?" Finland mutters.

Russia doesn't answer. He watches as the shadows approach the base. Its shape finally begins to solidify and Russia sees the spider-like monster slowly stumbling toward the still warm cadavers and it crotches above them. The ground rumbles when it opens its mouth and it begins shredding the meat away from the animals, and bones snap. Blood flies through the air and steam rises from the red-stained ground.

"Huh. It looks like a garburator," Canada says, and Russia spins around, startled.

"It's called a garbage disposal," America calls from across the room.

Canada scoffs. 

Russia turns when he hears one of the phones begins ringing. New Jersey grabs the phone and tosses it to New York, who catches it easily.

"Heya, this is York. What's going..." New York trails off, "Whoa Boss, you gotta calm down! I can't understand... *Okay. Yes, he's here.*" 

New York pulls away from the phone at looks around for a moment, "Russia!"

Russia quickly walks over and New York hands him the phone. "It's your pops. He's freaking out and wants to talk to you."

Russia takes the phone and holds it up to his face.

"*Hello?*"

"*Russia!*" Soviet yells into the phone, panic in his tone. Russia stiffens at the tone. He hadn't heard his father like that. His father is normally much more reserved and controlled. 

Now, he sounds completely frantic. A pang of panic hits Russia hard in the chest.

"*Papa, is something wrong? What happened?*"

"*Ukraine is gone!*"

"*What do you mean he's gone?!*" Russia asks dread fills the pit in his stomach.

"*He was only outside for a moment. Alaska ran inside and he's gone!*"

"*Is he hiding outside?*" Russia asks desperately.

'Maybe he's playing a cruel joke.'

'Please, he has to be playing.' 

'He has to.'

"*NO! I went out to check. Whatever took him is gone and he is too. His footsteps just stop.*"

Russia feels his heart stop. 

'It's real. He's been taken.'

Russia forces back his horror and tries to keep himself together enough to make sure everything was under control at home. 

'It dangerous now,' Russia thinks, his hands on his head, 'Alaska! He needs to be there to protect her.'

"*Papa, you have to come back inside,*" Belarus calls in the background, "*It's too cold to be out here for very long.*"

"*I can't-*"

"*Papa,*" Russia interrupts, struggling to keep his voice steady, "*I know you're panicked, but you can't leave the others alone.*" 

"*I need to find him! I shouldn't have ever allowed him to leave!*"

"*NO! Do not! You need to be there for Alaska!*" Russia demands, his thoughts blurring together in his terrified state. 

Russia hears his father breathing heavily and Belarus trying to coax him back inside. His heart jumps out of his chest when he hears the door slam shut. 

"*Hello Russ,*" Belarus says, veiled anxiety in her voice, "*I will try to keep things from falling apart. You need to find Ukraine.*"

"Okay," Russia mumbles before the phone line goes dead.

Russia stands frozen, the phone still pressed on his face.

"Russia?" America asks. 

Russia spins around and sees America staring at him. America slowly approaches him.

"Meri?" Russia asks breathlessly.

"Rue, you gotta calm down your breathing. You're gonna pass out," America says softly, carefully placing his hands on Russia's shoulders.

'Calm down my breathing?'

Dizzyness fills his head and he sees America begin breathing slowly, exaggerated inhales. Russia shakily mimics him. 

"What happened?" America asks, staring Russia in the eyes with a serious, but concerned look.

Russia glances away.

"Ukraine is missing. He was taken," Russia mumbles, covering his face.

"Hey," America says gently, "look at me."

Russia looks up and meets America's eyes, trying to ignore the discoloration of the blind one. 

"It's okay," America says.

"No, it's not!" Russia shouts "it's not okay! Ukraine is missing! He was taken. Taken!"

Russia hears America talking, but he doesn't understand the words. Russia's chest tightens painfully and he sinks to the ground. Ukraine, his annoying younger brother. He's gone. He's gone. 

Russia feels himself spiraling. 

Ukraine has been taken as a test subject. 

"Russia!" America shouts from in front of him. Russia looks up and sees America kneeling in front of him looking terrified. Once America sees Russia had looked up, he forces a smile. 

"Rue-Rue, please," America begs, "you have to calm down. If I could survive, if we could get out, he'll be okay."

Russia shakily nods. Still, his heart pounds against his ribcage.

"Rue," America says with a sigh, "I'm going to ask you a few questions, okay?"

Russia gives a trembling nod.

"Okay. Where are we?"

"Home base," Russia forces out between gasps.

"Who am I?"

"Stars."

"What are you holding?"

Russia looks down at his hands.

"Phone."

"What color is the wall?"

"Red."

"What color is the floor?"

"Grey."

Russia finally manages to calm his breathing and stares into America's eyes. America offers a comforting smile. Russia lunges forward and grabs America into a tight hug. America hugs him back. Russia struggles to match his breathing to America's. He hiccups and gasps.

America sits quietly and just holds him. 

Once Russia can think clearly again, he pulls back.

'Thank you.'

Russia looks America dead in the eyes, set on fixing this.

"I need to find him."

"What? Russ.."

"No. He's my brother. I need to find him and make sure he's okay."

"You are not doing that alone," America states plainly.

"I have to get him!"

"That's not what I meant," America says, taking Russia's hands, "We are going to find him, okay?"

"...you're going to help me?" Russia asks, breathless.

"Of course!" America says, "of course I'm going to help you. Rue, I'm not going to let you do this by yourself. If you need to go and find him, I'm coming with you." 

Russia tucks his head into America's shoulder and tries to hold back his shaking. 

"Thank you," Russia mumbles. 

"I'm here for you," America says reassuringly, "of course I'm going to help."

"We need to figure out where he is," Russia mutters.

"We will," America says. 

"And we need to get him."

"I know."

Russia lets out a shaky sigh. 

"How am... How are we going to find him?"

"We'll break into the bases we know about and get maps and information and track down where they're keeping the missing countries."


	29. Lists of the Missing

'God this man.'

Emotions whirl around Russia's chest and he's left just wanting to kiss the person sitting in front of him. 

So he does.

He kisses America deeply, hoping to translate how grateful he feels and the relief that floods his system. America reciprocates immediately, and Russia leans into him. He wants to keep going, but the fact that he could hear the chatter of kids around him causes him to stop.

He pulls back and America looks at him with a caring smile. Russia can't help the love-struck grin that he knows crosses his face.

"*I thank you,*" Russia says softly.

"Not a problem, Rue. I'm not letting you do this by yourself." 

Russia hugs America tightly and tucks his head into America's soft hair.

"I love you," Russia mutters.

"I know," America mumbles, "I love you too."

Russia smiles. 

'We have a plan,' he thinks with relief.

Finally feeling like he could breathe again, Russia picks up the phone and begins typing.

"I will find Ukraine and bring him back home," Russia types, "do you want the pictures we have?"

It takes a moment for the phone to go off again.

"Yes 

\- Bela."

Russia begins to send as many pictures as he could find in the phone's camera roll and begins to send them to his father's phone number.

"That's everything we have," Russia texts.

")))" Belarus replies.

Russia pockets the phone and gives America a smile.

Russia feels like he could fly. He takes America's hands and smiles brightly, his face warm. America smiles back.

"Come on," America says, releasing Russia's hand for a moment as he begins to stand, "if I have to rest, you do too."

America offers his hand and Russia takes it. America pulls, and Russia stumbles up to his feet. America tugs him over to the mat and Russia follows behind. America hauls him into the blankets and Russia falls into them. Russia curls into the blankets and America tucks himself under Russia's chin.

Oklahoma and Arizona crawl in with them sit against the blankets around America. 

"Hey Oaky, how're you doing?"

"Just worried about you," Oklahoma replies.

"Why's that?"

"We just want you to be safe, Dad," Arizona adds.

"I won't abandon you guys if that's what you're thinking," America says reassuringly, patting them both on the head. 

The kids giggle. Russia chuckles. They look up at Russia and then Arizona smiles. Arizona shifts a little and glances over both America and Russia. 

"Maybe having two dads isn't so bad," Arizona says confidently, throwing her hands back behind her head and lean. 

Russia's mind stops working and his whole face grows hot.

"Russ~ Are you still there?" America says, poking Russia in the side.

Russia nods his head and when he looks at America, America begins laughing. Russia's face twists in confusion and America tries to muffle his laughter with his hands.

"You're bright red," America says between giggles. 

Russia rolls his eyes and looks away. He feels so happy, but guilty too.

'I shouldn't be joking. Not when my brother is missing.'

Russia looks away and his face falls. He doesn't pull away from America because America is happy with where he is, but he can't help the shame fill his throat.

'It's so unfair. I'm smiling and Ukraine is in danger.'

Russia sighs and starts looking through the pictures on the phone and reading the maps and symbols, trying to decipher meaning from them, but his lack of geographic knowledge of the USA makes it hard.

He does note a few bases in Europe, but they looked like most of them had been crossed off. Most of the bigger looking bases looked to be in Canada and the US. Russia looks up and notices that the kids had gotten up.

"Meri?" Russia calls.

"Yeah, Rue-Rue?"

"Can you look at this?"

"Sure, hand me the phone," America replies, holding out his hand.

Russia hands it over easily and America cradles it in the small space between them.

America scans the pictures and mumbles, tracing shapes in the air. Russia watches with a little interest before reaching down and poking America in the side to get his attention. America jolts and squirms, snickering uncontrollably.

'Ticklish huh? Well, looks like I found a new favorite activity.'

"Russ! Stop! I'm trying to do something," America whines, playfully shoving Russia's hand away.

"What are you doing?" Russia asks.

"Well, I was trying to map out the locations to give me an idea of where we are in relation to it. But somebody is distracting me," America says with a pout.

Russia smirks and pokes him again.

"HEY!" America squeals, "stop!"

Russia lies back down with a smirk brings his hands to his chest. America watches him suspiciously and Russia grins. Eventually, America relaxes a little and turns his head away from Russia and back toward the graded ceiling above them. Russia watches as America traces out coastlines, borders, and rivers while muttering to himself.

The lines America's fingers trace are marked with a faint light blue that Russia doesn't notice at first. America draws a map of his continent and darker blue spots mark the spots labeled on the map in the picture. Russia watches in fascination.

The way America connects the base locations, both their own and the Revolution's, makes them look like constellations.

Russia's head whips up when motion catches his attention and he sees Dixie and Texas walking over, looking curious. Russia shushes them and gestures for them to wait. Texas complies and pulls Dixie back. 

Russia waits for a few minutes until America drops his hands. 

"Stars?"

"...yeah, I'm done. Jeez, this is going to be a long road trip, but at least we know where to start looking."

Russia feels his heart sink.

"Rue, we'll find Ukraine. Don't worry, okay?" America says reassuringly.

Russia sighs. Then he hears footsteps walking forward, and he jerks around to see Dixie and Texas walking forward. Dixie stays back and Texas kneels beside America just outside the piles of blankets.

"Dad?"

"Hey, Taz. Where's Enem?"

"She's hanging out with Zone and Kan-Kan," Texas says, gesturing to Arizona and Kansas talking animatedly with New Mexico. America sighs and smiles.

"Alright, Tazzy-man, what's up?"

Texas rolls his eyes at the nickname.

"Was wondering what you were doing," Texas says.

"I was trying to figure out where to go next."

"Wait, 'go'? What are you talking about?"

"Ukraine was taken earlier today," America says, and Texas' eyes light up with recognition, "and we are going to raid the bases until we find him."

Texas nods decisively. Dixie approaches them, Finland at his side, and asks Texas to back up.

"I need to talk to them," Dixie says, waving Texas away.

Texas sighs with exasperation and rolls his eyes, but nonetheless, he walks off to go mess around with the southeast.

"Okay, y'all said you were leaving again?" Dixie asks.

"Yes, we'll have to. We have to recover the missing countries. With the lab that we found when we escaped from the caves, who knows what could happen if we don't do something."

Dixie scowls but doesn't refute it. 

"Once we find them, I could bring them back to Europe," Finland volunteers.

'She wants to get back to Sweden,' Russia thinks with a sense of understanding. 

"I think that might work," America says, "but we need a tally of all the missing personifications."

"Russia, do you think your dad would get that for us?" Texas asks from behind Dixie. Russia nods.

"Tex, I thought I asked you to leave," Dixie groans. Texas shrugs.

"Where was I gonna go?" Texas asks, "it isn't like we have any separate rooms."

"Yeah, we need a better place to set up camp," America comments.

Dixie's face lights up.

"Dix?" America asks.

"Amy, I've still got that old plantation house in North Georgia," Dixie says, growing excited, "I haven't been there recently, but my name was never on the land, so they probably don't know it's there. It never had an address anyways."

"Wait, really? I thought you said you registered the house's address," America says, his eyes lighting up.

"Nah, I didn't trust the Feds and decided not to. Sides, I knew your boss was the one pushing for it, not you. The house I registered was an old crackhouse up in Tenessee. Pretty sure it's already been demolished."

America sits up quickly, excited. He waves his hands with a squeal of excitement. Russia sits up a little and watches with a small smile. Then America stiffens and slowly lowers his arms. He slowly turns and gives Russia a frightened look. Russia sits up a little, feeling concerned.

"What's wrong?" Russia asks.

"I just forgot you were here," America mumbles, looking away. 

"Amy does that sometimes when he gets excited," Dixie says, glancing at Russia with crossed arms.

"SHH!" America hisses, his face red.

"*I think it's cute,*" Russia says quietly.

America stares at Russia with wide eyes before a huge, sparkling smile grows across his face and a few tears gather in the corners of his eyes. America begins vibrating and waving his hands again and Russia feels giddy feelings fill his chest. 

"Alright!" Dixie exclaims, throwing his hands in the air and causing Russia to flinch, "I give up!"

Russia looks up, confused, and sees Texas laughing while Dixie storms off.

"What happened?" Russia asks.

"He's givin' up on trying to get you away from Dad," Texas says grinning, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Yay!" America cheers.

"F*** you Ohio!" Michigan yells, hopping to his feet.

"Shut the f*** up, Michigan," Ohio hisses.

America sighs.

"Both of you need to stop," America says tiredly.

Michigan runs at Ohio and they topple to the ground screaming. Delaware stands nearby shaking his head. America gets up and walks into the fight. America grabs hold of both of the boys and holds them by the scruffs of their neck. Michigan scowls and tries to pull away and Ohio tries to lung forward to hit Michigan. 

However, all Ohio manages to do is strike America in his stomach.

America immediately releases them and silently crumples to the ground.

Russia hops up and rushes over. He meets California and New York when he reaches America. He can faintly hear Dixie panicking. He stays back to allow New York and California to try to get America's attention to help him. 

Delaware has Michigan and Virginia grabs Ohio and the two are screaming at them for hurting their father. 

Ohio and Michigan look shocked and horrified before turning on each other. 

"I-" Ohio starts.

"WHY DID YOU HIT DAD?!" Michigan yells. Delaware smacks him on the back of the head.

"I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" Ohio yells.

"YOU DID!"

"YOU STARTED IT!"

"S***. We're not getting his attention," New York mutters.

"He's still breathing," California comments with worry.

Russia slowly approached America on the floor and places a hand on his back.

"Meri?"

Russia gently grabs America's shoulders and shakes them. America's head pokes up with tears streaking down his face. 

"What's wrong?"

"Just hit the wro-ong spot," America stutters through heavy breathing, "I just need a minute."

America stays curled up on the floor, his breathing labored. Russia sits next to him and rubs America's back with his hand. After a few moments, America sits up, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. It's a few more moments before America speaks again.

"Don't do that again," America scolds, his voice full of pain.

"Dad! I'm so sorry," Ohio cries, falling to his knees in front of America.

"It's okay," America mutters.

"No, it's not. Lift up your god d*** shirt and show us the injury you have on your stomach," New York demands.

"Well, it'll probably be a bruise," America replies with snark.

"You know d*** well that is not what I'm talking about."

America sighs shakily and complies, showing the aggravated scar tissue, now with a dark red spot where he had been hit.

"See," America says with a forced smile, "just a bad spot."

"This is all your fault!" Ohio yells at Michigan.

"ME?! You're the one who hit him!"

"Quiet!" Russia shouts, and the two fall silent, looking down with guilty faces. 

"Are you going to be okay?" Russia asks.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I just need to lie down," America mumbles. 

Russia helps him back to the blankets and lies him down.

"Seriously?!" Dixie says, "I told you to rest!"

"Well I wasn't expecting for it to hurt that badly," America sasses back.

"Hush," Russia says, "you should've asked someone else to separate them."

"Or maybe they shouldn't have been fighting," Delaware bites, glaring at Michigan.

America sighs. 

"Listen, if you guys can behave yourselves, I'll do the constellations."

'Constellations?'

"Really?"

"Yay!"

"Yeah Michigan, behave yourself," Georgia sneers.

"Peaches, stop," Louisiana says. Georgia scoffs and turns away.

"Yeah, we'll definitely need to see if your house is viable. They need more space to spread out or this'll just get worse," America comments, still hunching over. 

Dixie nods. 

"I'll check with the cameras Georgia put in," Dixie comments offhandedly before turning back to America, "are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," America says reassuringly, "I was just caught off guard, okay?"

"You better not be lying," Dixie says with crossed arms.

"Is everything okay?" Canada asks.

"Yes," America says, "I was just hit and got caught off guard."

Canada stands nearby concerned before walking off. Russia plays with America's hair while America curls up in the blankets with his head in Russia's lap. Russia picks the phone back up and begins scrolling back through the maps. He does see some world maps with some of the countries crossed off, including Finland and the Phillippines.

America also seems crossed off as a whole on the world map, but the closer map of the North American Continent shows the states with flags drawn in by someone with pens. He also notes the map of South America has some of the Brazilian states crossed off. 

"Stars?"

"Hmm?"

"I think we might have our list of missing countries," Russia mutters, moving the phone to show America the screen, "the crossed off ones..."

"Are the ones that have be taken," America finishes in astonishment. 

'As horrible as it was, maybe exploring that base was worth it.'


	30. Starry Skies

"Netti?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Could you bring me a notepad and a pen please?"

"Okay," Connecticut says. They get up and walk over to the piles of supplies to grab the items. Russia gives them a smile as they approach.

"Here you go," Connecticut says as they gently hand the paper to America.

"Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem."

America clicks the pen and begins writing. America tosses the notepad onto the floor and he lies across Russia's lap to reach it, holding to phone right beside the pad of paper. Russia feels his face heat up a little, but he tries his best to ignore it.

-Ukraine

-São Paulo

-Rio De Janeiro

-Brazil

-Aure

-Mexico

-Italy

America glances at Russia before raising the phone up for Russia to see. 

"Can you identify the other ones? Geography was never my thing."

Russia nods and America hands him the phone. Russia makes a grabby hand motion for the pen and America hands it over easily. Russia examines the maps closely before grabbing the notepad. He lays the paper onto America's back and begins listing the countries he recognized had been marked off.

-Nigeria

-France

-Egypt

Then Russia notes that some of his own states had gone missing. His eyes widen and he feels a pang in his chest.

'How did I not notice?'

"What's wrong?"

"Some of my own states had gone missing," Russia reluctantly admits.

"That's not good," America mutters, "did you ever have a close relationship with any of them?"

Russia shakes his head. 

"No. We were business partners, but I can't leave them in captivity." 

America nods in understanding.

-Burgat

-Mari El

-Sakha

Unfortunately, with the poor quality of the photos, Russia couldn't make out any more marked off countries. The blurry quality made it nearly impossible to tell which markings were extra notes and which ones are marking off smaller countries or states. He squints, but can't get any more useful information from the maps.

Russia sighs in annoyance. Then he feels America sit up a little. The notepad begins sliding down America's back and Russia snatches it up before it hits the ground. The sudden movement snaps Russia out of his stupor and he listens. The kids are quieter. Looking closer, he sees that many of them seem excited and the older states had the lanterns in hand. 

"What does he mean by constellations?" asks Newfoundland.

"It's hard to explain," Maine says, "but it's really cool. You'll just have to wait."

America pulls himself up and clears his throat. The kids spin to look at him and America smiles.

"Okay kiddos, turn off the lights and cover windows."

The states cheer and rush around to bathe the building in darkness. It takes Russia a moment for his eyes to adjust and he sees the kids stumbling over each other trying to find a space to sit on the floor. America turns to Russia with a smirk.

"Hey Rue, wanna see something cool?"

Russia nods and America slowly gets up. Russia follows. America stops in the middle of the room and Russia stops beside him.

"Russ, you gotta sit down!" Iowa says, and she and Minnesota pull Russia to the ground.

America stands tall and spreads his hands.

"Three," America starts, and a chorus of voices join him, "two. One!"

Then the entire room is filled with stars. Russia's jaw drops. Static electricity fills the air. 

Dots of different intensity dance against the walls and ceilings. They move around the room, hypnotizing everyone watching. The room goes completely silent, and Russia feels like he's no longer in some abandoned warehouse, but instead swimming in one of his father's star charts.

Soft blue lines begin to connect the stars and constellations build themselves in the sky above. small specks sparkle in the background as the Big Dipper forms and Ursa Major begins to prowl the night sky. Russia looks at America in amazement and sees a faint blue glow from his eyes. Russia's gaze returns to the ceiling and walls and he watches in amazement as the stars and constellations come to life. He sees Orion running across the night sky, on the hunt.

Whisps of magic swirl in the air and Russia watches with wonder. America takes a deep breath, and Russia's head whips back to him. He watches America raise his hands and lowers them slowly with fascination. 

Now, Ursa Major descends from the ceiling with Ursa minor at its side. They appear in faint blue masses that prowl just above the heads of the states. 

Russia stares in awe. His eyes grow wide and he tries to see as much as his mind can process. 

Ursa Major gets closer and Russia finds himself reaching out to touch. Then Orion, his belt a glowing line of stars, lands in front of him, fighting off the bears. Orion pulls back and draws his bow. He pulls back and hits Ursa Major with an arrow of stars. Ursa Major lets out a silent scream before dissolving into a sea of sparks that fade into nothing.

A serpent about 1/2 a meter in diameter forms above them and it silently slithers away from the ceiling, sliding effortlessly through the air. It snakes through the states, faintly illuminating them as it navigates around them. It approaches Russia and Russia reaches out. His hand dips into a cool mist as it enters the serpent's body. The snake keeps moving while light blue magic swirls out behind Russia's fingers, fading into the air. 

Breathless, Russia stares back up to the ceiling as the stars rearrange, and a scorpion emerges to attack the serpent. The snake quickly approaches the ceiling and the scorpion strikes. The snake recoils before lunging to bite.

The two explode into stars that rain down upon them, showing them in cool, fading sparks that disappear when Russia tries to catch them. The stars slowly fade away, the brightest ones being the last to disappear. After Ursa minor finally fades into nothing, the states cheer. Russia stares up at the ceiling, now just as dark as the rest of the room had been. 

"Alright," America says, "turn on the lights so no one steps on each other."

America turns to Russia and smiles.

"Close your mouth, you'll catch flies," America says, snapping Russia out of his trance.

"*That was amazing!*" Russia exclaims, jumping to his feet, "How did you do that?"

"Wanted to figure out how to see the stars when I couldn't go outside and it just went from there," America says with a shrug.

"How much magic can you do?" Russia asks, breathless.

"Combat wise? Not much. I can only really use the scythe. Otherwise, I can heal and do light shows," America says, waving his hands to gesture to the rest of the room, "It's really not that big of a deal."

Russia grabs America's shoulders and stares him in the eye. 

"*That was absolutely amazing. I've never seen anything like that,*" Russia explains.

"See Dad, we've been trying to tell you it was cool," New York adds.

Finland moves to stand and adds, "It's a display to take your breath away."

America looks away with a pink tinge to his cheeks.

"Come on guys," America says, running a hand through his hair, "it was just a light show."

"Why did you ever tell me you could do that?!" Canada shouts, "I would've made you that every time you visited!"

"Yeah Uncle Aim!" Alberta shouts.

"Why didn't you guys ever tell us?!"

"You never asked!"

"But it's so awesome! You should've told us your dad could do that."

America looks down, his face going almost completely red. Russia admires the look and America latches onto him, burying his face into Russia's shoulder as if hiding from the praise. Russia laughs and hugs him back.

"It was really pretty. Just like you," Russia teases, poking the side of America's face.

America squirms away, and he dives for the mat they had been sitting on, hiding in the blankets. Russia laughs and runs up behind him. He lands next to America and pulls him out of the blankets. America squeaks and tries to pull away. Russia holds tighter. 

"Absolutely beautiful," Russia says, searching his English vocabulary for more words.

"No!" America shrieks.

"Lots of talent."

"Rue! Stop!"

"Best Dad ever!" Montana cheers. 

"And teacher!"

"And fighter!"

America groans and vehemently shakes his head.

"Good. Fun," Russia lists.

"Rue stop. You know that's not true."

"Cute."

America covers his face with his hands.

"Hmm. Yes, very cute," Russia says, covering America's face with feathery light kisses. America wriggles around and starts giggling uncontrollably. Russia pulls away and smiles at the flustered mess in his lap.

"I hate you," America says with a pout, crossing his arms and puffing up his cheeks.

Russia smirks and leans down, gently capturing America's mouth in a tender kiss. America kisses back, leaning up to meet him. Russia smiles against America's lips.

Russia pulls away and America turns away, his arms still crossed and his face a hot pink.

"That changes nothing," America insists. Russia hums in amusement. 

"Really!" America shouts, swatting at Russia's arm.

"Okay," Russia replies with a smile.

America huffs and leans back into Russia's lap.

"You suck."

"Okay."

"I hate you."

"Okay."

"Not really though. I can't actually hate you. That's like impossible. But I hate you for getting me like this."

"Okay."

"You're a jerk."

Russia chuckles, hugging America closer. 

"I love you," Russia says, nuzzling America's forehead.

"I love you too," America grumbles. 

Russia beams.

"You don't have to be a smug b****** about it," America mutters, shooting Russia an embarrassed glare.

Russia just grins. America pouts, turning to lay his ear down on Russia's chest. There seems to be a crowd around one of the windows by the door and Russia looks up and sees Texas keeping others from pulling down the curtains. Russia catches his eye, and Texas tilts his head to gesture outside before shaking his head.

"Don't want them to see what's outside," he seemed to say.

Russia nods and turns his attention back to America, who is grumbling angrily and affectionately tracing shapes into the fabric of Russia's sweater.


	31. Bad Days

*New Mississippi Design doodle; sidenote, I hope I got the hair style right. I am caucasian and stuck in the house with my white family, so I tried my best with google trying to find something relevant. I'm not sure if I did it right, so please let me know if I didn't do it justice.*

Russia twirls America's hair in between his fingers. He tries to admire different colors. Russia himself has plain white hair, and he almost finds himself envying it, but shakes the feeling off. He pulls his fingers through America's hair and it stands on end, blue and red highlights popping out from the white. 

But Russia finds he can't focus on the colors or the texture of any of it. His head spins and thoughts bounce around his skull like a pinball machine. He tries his best to relax, but his mind spins. 

'What's going to happen now?' The thought echos in his mind.

'Am I in danger?'

'Are we in danger?'

'Are the kids going to be okay?'

'Is Ukraine okay?'

'Is that thing going to come back? What if it wasn't here for just the animals.'

He tries to shake off the thoughts but finds that he can't. His eyes fly around the room, even though logic tells him that he won't find anything in here. Motion catches his attention and he sees Texas walking over with a concerned look on his face.

Texas smiles when he sees Russia looking up at him and walks a little quicker. Texas swiftly makes it to Russia's side and America looks up with a smile.

"Hey, y'all," Texas says, "so, I just wanna let y'all know that outside don't look so pretty."

"What do you mean?" America asks, his tone curious and worried.

"Well, it kinda looks like when Arkansas put red food coloring and milk in the blender and didn't put the top on."

"Oh. That's not good," America says, "is the spider monster thing still outside?"

"I didn't see it, and I don't think there are any more animals left," Texas says, "at least, not anymore. But Tenny said it smelled like it was gonna rain soon, so we might just wanna wait for a while before we go outside again."

America hums. 

"We wait until tomorrow," Russia says decisively, "then we will leave."

"Wait, we're leaving? I ain't complainin', don't get me wrong, but where are we going?" Texas says.

Russia notes that as soon as Texas' voice rose a little, the other kids tune in to the conversation. The kids don't move, but they do go quiet, occasionally glancing in their direction. 

"We're going to my plantation house in Georgia," Dixie says loudly, and drew everyone's attention. 

The room explodes with sound.

"Wait, we're going to go stay at Dixie's zombie house?"

"Bama, it's not for f***ing zombies."

"OOH! If we're leaving, can we get drive-thru on our way there?"

"Yeah! Anything's better than the unseasoned stuff coming outta these cans."

America sighs and rubs his face. Russia smiles. 

"Fine, we'll get drive-thru on our way there. But I am NOT taking requests," America relents. 

The states cheer and clap. Russia smiles and drops his chin into America's hair. It's prickly and tickles his face. Then he catches motion in his peripheral vision and he looks up, panicked. After a little searching, he finally sees what had startled him. He offers a smile to Connecticut as they walk over nicely.

"Hey, Dad?" Connecticut says, waving their hand to get his attention.

"Yeah, Kiddo?"

"Can I come with you?"

"What do you mean?" America asks, looking clueless. Russia shakes his head with amusement.

'They mean when we leave to invade the bases.'

"I know that you're leaving again with Russia. I wanted to see if I could come with you."

"Really? Why?"

"I've got magic, and I wanted to make sure you have some extra magic support," they answer, "I can't do wards like Massy, but I can summon weapons."

Connecticut waves their hands and summons knives, one in each hand. They wave the knives and their feet leave the ground as they whirl around, swiping through the air.

"Alright," America relents, "fine. But we aren't figuring out our search group until after we settle into Dixie's safe-house, okay?"

"Okay!" They say, and they walk off with a wide smile.

Russia's attention returns to the rest of the room and he finds himself tracking where everyone is and what they're doing. Trying to split his attention makes him feel overwhelmed, but when he tries to stop, panic grows in his chest. He feels America shift and Russia looks down at him. 

America looks up with wide, concerned eyes.

"Russ, are you okay?" America asks.

"All is perfect. I am okay."

"No, you're not," America says, sitting up.

Russia's eyes fly back to America again. America is looking up at him with concern and affection in his eyes. 

'His expressions still look the same,' Russia notes with muted joy.

"You're freaking out. I can feel your heartbeat," America whispers, his hand moving to Russia's chest. 

America stares up at him with a tender look. "Please," he says, "breath with me."

Russia tries, he really does, but when he tries to slow his breathing, his lungs scream at him that he isn't getting enough air. He finds himself trying to match America but desperately gasping as if he had just resurfaced after nearly drowning.

'How is he breathing so slowly?' Russia thinks incredulously, 'it's impossible.'

America carefully takes Russia's hand and pulls them onto his chest, breathing deeply. Russia feels the movement.

'In...out...in...out'

Russia takes shuttering breaths, trying to breathe in when he feels America's chest expand. 

"We're okay... we're okay," America whispers, cupping Russia's hands with his own.

Russia tries to look around America's head and search for danger in the building.

"Hey," America says, and Russia frantically looks back, "there is nothing behind me, okay? Look at me." 

Russia tries his best to keep his eyes on America, but the movement around America's head keeps pulling his attention back to the chaos happening behind America.

"Rue, I'm going to hug you, okay?" America asks, gently letting go of Russia's hands. 

Russia retracts his arms to his chest, closes his eyes, and nods furiously. America pulls him in and Russia leans his head into America's shoulder. America hugs him tightly and doesn't say anything.

'Everything is okay. Everything is okay.' It becomes almost a chant, cycling through his thoughts until it loses its meaning.

Russia feels America's heartbeat and breathing and focuses on it. Russia forces himself to focus on America. He struggles to tune out the sounds that drown out ration thoughts that surround him, so he focuses on America's breath brushing the back of his neck. Russia refuses to let his panic in his chest move his focus away. 

Finally, Russia's breathing starts to slow down enough for him to think, and he wraps his arms around America, trying his best to be gentle.

'Everything is okay. Right now, we are safe. If we stay inside, we are safe,' Russia thinks, trying to convince his heart to slow its racing. 

Russia focuses on keeping his breathing calm, and his heart rate calms. He lays there for as long as he can manage until he feels America begin to shift. Russia sits and looks away, his face flush. He can't make himself look up and meet America's eyes. 

'What happened?!' Russia mentally demands, trying to find why he had started panicking like that. 

"Rue?"

Russia scrunched his nose in frustration.

"Rue."

Russia looks up and sees America looking at him with concern. America smiles.

"You were spacing out on me there."

"Sorry," Russia mumbles.

"Hey, I get it," America says, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, "sometimes things can be too much."

"But I..."

"Rue-Rue, everyone has their bad days. Everyone. And bad days can look different depending on who you are. Sometimes when things get hard, Flo goes non-verbal, and Tex'll lash out and isolate himself. Sometimes, for no reason in particular, some of the states will visit and be attached to me like koalas for the rest of the day," America recalls, a fond and exasperated smile spreads across his face before he shakes his head, "Anyways, my point is we just had a hard few... forevers, and you're just having a bad day today."

Russia tries his best to fight back the shame in the back of his throat. He feels his cheeks burn.

"And hey, if I'm allowed to have bad days, you are too," America says, playfully punching Russia's shoulder. Russia doesn't look up and America sighs. 

"For real though, I'm here for you. Besides, we can't just go out and get alcohol to drown our sorrows, and I promised my kids I wouldn't start smoking again, so we're kinda stuck dealing with our emotions."

"I don't like it," Russia mutters. America laughs quietly.

"No one does, Rue-Rue. Trust me, I know. But if we don't deal with them, they don't ever get any better."

Russia tries to think of a counterpoint, only to find himself agreeing. 

"And I'm sure once we settle down into that house, we'll have a bunch of clingy children to deal with," America says with a smile.

Russia laughs softly and finally looks back up at America, who looks at him with love in his eyes. Russia stares back, getting lost within his eyes, staring almost hypnotized by the strange dullness to America's right eye and the depth to the right. 

"I think everyone needs a break just to calm down a little. I think once we're all together somewhere without things sneaking up on us and where we can sleep in actual beds, it'll get better," America says softly, a loving smile on his face.

Russia smiles back, and he feels lighter. The storm of emotions and anxiety he hadn't even noticed making a home in his chest dissipates, if only a little. 

"It will be better," Russia agrees before musing, "it has been a while since I have been in a house."

America giggles widely and falls into him. Russia smiles at the display and his heart swells. America takes a few deep breaths to calm his giggling before looking back up at Russia with a stern look.

"If you get jumpy like that again, try to calm yourself down," America advises, "if you don't, you're just gonna be exhausted."

Russia nods. America smiles brightly, and Russia tiredly smiles back.

"See, now you're tired. But you gotta stay up with me."

"Why?" Russia whines.

"Because you have to, you jerk," America huffs, crossing his arms and pouting.

Russia chuckles. "You are cute."

"I am not!"

Russia shakes his head with a smile. Honestly, he couldn't wait to settle down somewhere with a comfortable mattress and insulated walls. The mats suck. But he'd make due right now. They just have to stay put one more night.

Soon, light stops peaking through the makeshift curtains, and the steady padder of rain echoes from the metal ceiling, filling the building with white noise. America begins to sway a little before leaning into Russia's side, avoiding the dripping water streaming down the wall. 

Russia smiles, wraps an arm around him, drifting off, the darkness welcoming him into sleep's embrace.


	32. Packing Up

BOOM

Russia sits up at the noise with his eyes wide. The sky rumbles and the rain sounds a lot louder now. Russia stares around in the pitch black and hears someone whining softly across the room.

Another flash illuminates the room through the cracks in the curtain and he sees one of the kids sitting on one of the mats, curled up in a blanket.

"Who is there?" Russia asks quietly. The sky roars outside, loud enough to shake the walls. 

"Is everything alright?" Russia asks.

A small whine replies. and then there is quiet except for the storm outside. Russia keeps his eyes trained on the figure, trying to figure out who it was in the middle of the room, and he feels his heart pounding in his chest.

'Is that one of the states?'

Then a quiet voice rings out. 

"Can I sit with you guys?" Michigan asks quietly. 

Russia's breath returns to him. 

'It is one of the states.'

"Yes," Russia replies. Quiet shuffling slowly approaches and he hears someone sit down next to him in the blankets.

"Sorry," Michigan says quietly, "I just don't get much stuff like this...I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," Russia says softly, and his eyes begin to droop.

BANG

'That didn't sound like thunder.'

Russia tries to look in the direction of it, but can't see anything. Then he hears a small crack and his head whips around to see Michigan's face illuminated by a toxic green and a blur of green waving in front of him. 

"What is that?" 

"A glowstick," Michigan whispers, slowing his hand down enough for Russia to see it clearly.

BANG

The door rattles violently against what sounds like metal and wood.

Russia gets ready to stand up but Michigan grabs his arm and pulls him back down.

"Don't. Dixie and Fin already barricaded the doors," Michigan whispers, "they said that we shouldn't investigate if anything happens." 

Russia nods and sits back down. America sleepily snuggles back into him, mumbling under his breath. Russia gasps a little in surprise and Michigan laughs quietly into his hands. America loops Michigan into the embrace and effortlessly pulls the kid in between them. Michigan squirms a little and sighs. 

America leans his head against Russia's chest and Michigan just kinda shifts to stay comfortable.

"Has he done this before?" Russia asks curiously.

"Yeah," Michigan admits quietly, looking away, "...it's kinda why I wanted to sit with you guys."

Russia nods along, trying to ignore the booming thunder and intermittent flashes from outside.

"Dad hugs you if you're near him while he's sleeping," Michigan mutters as if trying to distract himself from the pounding outside, "and he doesn't wake up as long as you're not loud, so a lot of us... it's just easier than asking, you know? He doesn't mind most of the time, we just can't go inside if the door's locked."

'We don't have doors now anyway.' 

"Are you okay?" Russia asks quietly.

"...I'm just-"

BANG

"-a little freaked out."

"Everything is alright. Whatever is outside will not get in," Russia promises, warily watching the door.

Michigan hums. The banging stops soon after and Russia begins drifting off to the rhythmic sound of the rain. His eyes droop, and he's out like a light.

When Russia wakes up again, the sounds of the storm had tapered off sometime in the night and now the silence is filled with the chirping of birds outside. A few rays of sunlight stream in through the gaps in the curtains. 

Russia yawns and notices the goosebumps covering his arm.

'It's cold.'

Russia is about to sit up to stretch when he notices Vermont leaning against him and Michigan tucked under both his and America's arms. Russia smiles, briefly wondering what woke him up when he feels the children shifting. He closes his eyes again and pretends to still be asleep while the two kids slowly stand up and wander back into the middle of the room before collapsing together into piles of blankets. 

Once they leave, Russia shivers.

'The heaters must have stopped working last night.'

Russia opens his eyes again and sees some of the kids signing to each other or reading, all of them wrapped in blankets and sitting close together. Around their faces are puffs of mist as they exhale, and the small clouds disappear into the frigid air. 

Russia grabs a blanket, fuzzy and red, and reaches forward with a blanket shielded hand. He grabs America and pulls him in close. He drapes the blanket over the two of them and pulls America into his chest. America hums softly but doesn't pull away. Russia tangles his legs around America's and America wraps his arms around Russia. 

The goosebumps disappear and Russia sneaks his arms under America's shirt and around his back. 

'Like a space heater,' Russia thinks with a smile. 

Russia tries to get as close to America as physics would allow and with the heat, America gives off, Russia melts into him. America shifts, but Russia chalks it up to America just moving in his sleep until America purposefully nudges Russia's cheek with his forehead.

"Hi," America mutters with a tired smile.

Russia stiffens a little, startled, and pulls America in protectively. After a moment, America's voice finally registers to his sleepy mind and he relaxes a little, sighing into America's hair.

"*Good morning,*" Russia mutters.

"You're being pretty cuddly. Something wrong?"

"*I'm cold,*" Russia whispers.

America giggles quietly. They quiet down and Russia basks in the fuzzy feelings. Russia shivers a little when America rubs warm hands against his cool back before relaxing completely into America's hold. America props himself up, pulling Russia up with him. Russia smiles lazily. 

America pulls his hands away and Russia feels a little disappointed, but curious as to what he's doing. America signs something to New York, who gives a curt response with sharp and swift movements.

'It fits his attitude.'

Russia opens his mouth to ask, but America put a finger over his mouth to shush him. America looks back up and signs something else. New York nods and prods at New Jersey, signing with the same motions, as if to pass on the message to him. New Jersey huffs and crosses his arms and New York scowls. The two have a silent argument in hands and New York comes out smug. New Jersey gets up with a pout and brings some paper and a pen to America. America takes it, sighing something that Russia assumes is in thanks and he begins to scribble something on it.

"Some of the kids aren't having a good morning. What happened yesterday and the stress of all this has them a bit wired," America writes, "They should be okay as long as they don't get overwhelmed."

Russia nods in understanding.

America tosses the things into the blankets before grabbing Russia by his midsection and pulling him close. Russia smiles and leans into the motion and warmth. America leans his head up and peppers Russia's face with feathery kisses, silent and light. 

Russia closes his eyes and smiles. He nuzzles into America's shoulder, and America hugs him tightly. Russia feels his heart swell inside his chest and he grins. He kisses America's cheek, and America turns to face him with a smirk. 

"You missed," America mouths. 

Russia's eyes widen. 

"*What?*" Russia mouths, baffled.

America turns away, pouting a little, before leaning up and connecting their mouths into a short kiss. Russia relaxes a little and America puts his head back on Russia's chest. Russia kisses America's hairline. 

"*I love you,*" Russia mumbles, his eyes closed.

America pecks his chin, and Russia notes with pride that his face is pink. Russia looks up to the rest of the room when the shuffling grows louder. He sees the older states encouraging and helping the younger kids to pack up their supplies. Russia sits up and America tries to pull him back down. Russia shakes him off and shivers. The cold air hits him as he lets the blanket slide off his back. 

Tennessee looks up at him with a smile and walks over with Russia's thicker(better) coat, now with a subtle stitch keeping the front together.

She signs something before handing it over. Russia wants to express his thanks but doesn't know how. He looks at America to help. America takes Russia's hand and guilds it upward. America opens Russia's fingers and shows Russia to press the fingertips of his hand, open-palmed, to his chin, and then bring it down in a small arc.

Tenessee smiles before waving and walking away to help Rhode Island and Delaware fold up the mats and tuck them into the protective plastic cases. Russia dawns the coat and shivers at the cold material. Normally he wouldn't need anything nearly this thick, and memories of colder winters with less protective clothing flit through his mind.

'I am still recovering,' Russia reminds himself, trying to get rid of the shame staining his heart, 'this is okay. I need to stay warm.'

Then something suddenly covers his eyes. 

He freezes. 

Pitch black. 

So dark. 

Cold. 

Quiet. 

Too quiet. 

The quiet shuffling of children contorts and memories flash through his mind. Fear grows in his chest. Waiting for the horribly sharp claws to find them. Waiting for that sniffing monstrosity to tear them to bits.

"Russia?"

The cloth over his eyes is quickly removed and he takes a deep breath, trying to blink away the memories of the pitch-black alcove, the darkest black he'd ever seen. He inhales deeply and stares into a bright patch of sunlight on the ground. 

"Rue?" America calls again. His tone is quiet and filled with worry and guilt. 

Russia can't think straight enough to respond, just trying to soothe his panic. Blood roars in his ears and a static fuzz fills the space in his mind where his thoughts should've been. He fights to show himself that he's okay.

'Light,' Russia reminds himself, 'there is light here. I am okay. There are birds here. I am okay.'

He takes a deep breath in through his nose and slowly out through his mouth. His racing heart calms down slightly and the noise around him slowly fades back in and he forces his muscles to relax. He can finally tear his eyes away from the patch of sun to look around the room. Everything regains its colors and he hears the footsteps and muffled, childish giggling from the kids sitting around the building. 

'I'm okay,' he reminds himself.

He swallows back the panic creeping up his throat and watches Iowa and Montana try to start a game of tag with some of the other states. The mental fog recedes and he starts moving again. He very quickly notices his back is sore from being so tense, but he decides to ignore it. The states begin tearing down the makeshift curtains and bathe the building in sunlight.

Russia sighs and rubs his face. 

"*That was not fun,*" Russia mutters. 

"What'd you say?" America asks very quietly from behind him, his fearful undertone causing Russia to turn all his attention to him.

"Stars?" Russia asks, concerned. 

He turns around to see America sitting up on the remaining blankets, half wearing his jacket, staring down at his lap. Russia follows his gaze and sees America forcibly crumpling the fabric of his hat in his lap. 

"Can I have this?" Russia asks gently, pointing to his hat. 

America gives a forceful nod before shoving out in front of him. Russia takes hold of it and America lets go and retracts his hands. Russia examines the fabric and catches America looking up at him as he did so, a horrified look on America's face. Russia doesn't see anything other than a few wrinkles that would indicate anything had happened, so he puts it on and quickly adjusts it.

"I didn't break it, right?" America asks quietly. 

"No, you didn't," Russia replies calmly, "but why did you have it?"

"I... I was trying to put it on over your eyes," America says reluctantly, his eyes going to the floor and his hands bunching up his coat, "but when I did, you froze and weren't answering me. I took it off but I didn't know what else to do."

'That's why it got so dark.'

"I'm sorry Rue. I don't know why or what I was thinking or anything. I just did and you..."

"The quiet and dark just reminded me of the tunnels," Russia explains evenly, leaving the 'I panicked and almost had a full-blown flashback,' part unsaid, though America seemed to pick up on it none-the-less.

"I'm so sorry. I-" America rambles, his face falling.

'He looks like he's about to cry.'

"It's okay, Stars," Russia says gently, "you didn't know. I didn't know."

"I won't ever do it again!" America blurts out, "I promise. I won't scare you like that again. I don't ever want to do that to you again. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Stars," Russia says, "and that's all I can ask. We're okay. Everything is okay."

America growls and swipes at the few tears on his face. 

"God, I just scared the s*** out of you, and you're comforting me. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" America rambles, grabbing Russia's hands, and Russia feels his heart shine, "your hands are still shaking. D*** it. F***. I love you. I'm sorry. We aren't in the caves. There's sunlight outside. We're okay. We're out."

The reassurance fills Russia with relief and he smiles brightly. America smiles back while looking at him, but when America looks away, his face falls. Russia's heart melts. 

"Stars," Russia coaxes, "don't be sad. It's okay"

"Okay," America mutters, still staring at the floor.

Russia tilts America's chin up and their eyes meet. Russia lets his eyes slide shut and he leans in and captures America's mouth in a tender kiss. America leans in and kisses back, throwing his arms around Russia's neck. Russia wraps his arms around America's back and pulls him forward. 

The two pull away and America stares up with enough fondness to fill an ocean. Russia felt like his heart couldn't take any more of America's cuteness. Russia stands up and pulls America up with him.

"Let's go," Russia says with a smile. 

America grins and drags Russia by his arm around the building, packing things up and violently shoving things into the trunks of the cars and under the seats after the truck beds are full. 

Russia smiles, just enjoying his time with his favorite person.


	33. New Home

"So we are not going to be able to rent out about hotel rooms for all of us without a raising a lot of suspicions," America announces, "we are going to have to go and keep going until we get there. If you need caffeine, make sure we get it before leaving into the midwest, okay? It's probably going to take is maybe a day and a half if we drive through the night."

Russia flinches at the thought, and he isn't the only one. Even so, he doesn't say anything. 

'70 people showing up to a hotel and trying to rent out a room anonymously will alert someone of our presence there.'

"We are leaving as soon as everyone is packed up and in the cars," America says, and the children nod before rushing to finish getting everything together. America grabs one of the nearby crates of foodstuffs and hands it to Russia before turning back and grabbing one for himself. They walk outside, side by side, onto the slick grass.

The water hadn't frozen, but it was definitely cold. Russia helps shove the bins at the feet of the states while America goes to make sure that everyone knew where to go. Finland and Canada do a cursory search of what's left in the building to make sure they hadn't left anything behind. Dixie herds the kids into the cars and closes doors behind them

"Hey, Amy?"

America hums in response.

"Who's gonna lead?"

"Russ and I will," America replies with a smile, "besides, I've been doing well enough. I can probably stay up to navigate."

Dixie nods. "Just let me know if you start getting too tired," he adds.

"Okay, will do," America replies flippantly, walking back toward the car he and Russia would be driving with Finland, Texas, New Mexico, Kansas, Georgia, and Arizona already piled into the back seats.

Russia falls into the passenger seat, shaking his hands.

'I should have worn gloves.'

America jumps into the driver's seat and starts the car, blasting the heat. America takes up the radio. 

"Are you guys ready to go?"

"Yes," Dixie replies.

"Yup," Florida shouts through the radio.

"We're ready," Maine says.

"We are as well," Manitoba volunteers.

"We're good to go over here," Pennsylvania says.

"Louisiana, Maryland, Rho?" America asks.

"We're good."

"Us too."

"Yup."

"Cali? Montana?"

"We need some gas, but we'll be fine for a little while," Prince Edwards Island says.

"Yeah. We need gas soon too, but we can get going," Newfoundland says.

"Alright," America says, tossing the radio to Russia, "tell them we're leaving and to follow me."

"Follow Kansas' car. We are leaving," Russia says into the radio.

Garbled affirmations spill from the receiver, and America pulls onto the slick roads. The tires kick up gravel and dirt. Russia rides off toward the sunrise. 

They finally arrive at the plantation house at around 10 AM the next morning. They had managed to avoid any trouble on their way there, though Russia wasn't really sure how.

Russia stumbles out of the driver's seat. He yawns and looks on at the house. It is huge with giant pillars that surround the patio and the path that leads to the home is surrounded and covered by trees. Fallen leaves blow through on a gentle breeze. Windows face him and he can catch glances of brightly colored curtains and tapestry.

'It's warm here,' he notes sleepily.

He rubs his face and blinks. 

"Top floor has 3-level bunk beds. You kiddos can go run on in and check it out. Try not to break anything," Dixie calls after the crowd of kids who go rushing inside. 

America walks up to Russia's side and ducks under Russia's arm. America leans against him and Russia smiles.

"Thanks for taking the last leg," America mumbles, "I didn't think I could."

"It is not a problem."

America leads him inside and Russia trips over the pile of shoes throw onto the floor in the foyer. He kicks off his boots and the rugs under his feet feel soft and almost unreal compared to the uneven concrete of the abandoned warehouse. The air smelled stale and Russia sees Dixie cracking open a few windows. 

America goes up to the second floor and walks Russia to the bathroom and hands him some loose clothes from one of the main bedrooms. Russia undresses and hops under the water, trying his best to wash off the grime.

When Russia emerges, America is waiting outside the door, his hair wet. They walk out together and downstairs into the living room. 

"My turn!" Oklahoma shouts.

"No! I called it already!" Texas yells.

"Too bad Tex-y," Oklahoma yells with an audible smirk before slamming the bathroom door.

America sighs and sits back into the love-seat, pulling Russia down with him. Russia looks up and spots Dixie sitting across the room. 

"Hey Dix, you got the rooms figured out?"

"The Ruski is going with you to stay in your room and Finland and Canada are staying in the beds in the spare bedroom on the second floor. All the kids are staying on the third floor," Dixie replies, leaning on his hand. 

America hums and smiles into Russia's neck. Russia sits up and moves to tuck his back in between the back and the armrest. He throws his legs over America's and America laughs. Russia looks up when he hears one of the kids wanders up to them. Florida looks away as he approaches. 

Florida mutters something under his breath, and Russia couldn't understand what he had said. 

"What did you say, sweetie?" America asks, pushing off Russia's legs and leaning forward.

Florida raises his hands a little and says, "My arms miss you."

"Aww, come'ere kiddo," America says softly, leaning forward and gently pulls Florida in a hug. 

Russia smiles at the display. Florida pulls away after a minute and scuttles upstairs. America smiles fondly and sits back into the chair. Russia scans the open room and sees that Dixie had fallen asleep in the armchair and several of the older states loitering around the doorway.

America notices them too and waves them in with a smile. They fill the room quickly, taking seats on the cushions tossed to the floor and the chairs around the room. The kids just sit quietly as others wander in and join them. 

"...Dad?" asks Nebraska.

"Yeah Neb?" America asks.

"When are things going to go back to normal?" she asks quietly. 

America opens his mouth to answer but shuts his mouth. America looks down and doesn't meet anyone's eyes.

"Do you even know?" Texas snaps, his arms crossed. 

America's whips up to face him with wide eyes, almost like a deer in headlights. Texas stares him in the eyes with a disgruntled look on his face.

"What? Is he supposed to?" California rebuttals, scowling at Texas.

"I kinda wanna know," Alabama adds quietly.

"Shut up Alabama," Arkansas mutters.

"I want to go home," New York says, his arms crossed, "Jersey and Mass do too."

"I'm trying to keep you guys safe," America says.

"So going to the monsters and getting yourself captured kept us safe?" Ohio bites back.

"I made a mistake," America admits, "I shouldn't have done that."

"Yeah. You shouldn't," Louisiana says, crossing her arms. 

America runs his hand through his hair and looks away. Texas sighs, annoyed.

"Dad, we just don't want you getting hurt," Michigan says, exasperated.

"I know, kiddo, but I can't just let this stuff keep happening," America says.

Michigan grumbles with crossed arms.

"I know," America says, "and I'm sorry I ran off and made you guys worry."

Georgia huffs.

"You are not allowed to go anywhere by yourself," New Hampshire demands with a scowl.

"Yeah, not anymore," Maine says, crossing her arms.

"Don't worry," America says, looking up at Russia with a smile, "that won't happen again."

"That's all fine and dandy, but we mean that we don't want you to think you're alone here. We're here for you," Virginia says, waving to the states behind her, "and if we're going to be on the run from the feds, I don't want you and your boyfriend to go off without help."

America gives a small smile, but it falls quickly.

"Are you trying to get away from us?" Minnesota asks, her voice quiet and sad.

America's jaw drops and looks horrified, and he seems to freeze as the states stare at him for an answer. Russia notices them look more upset and disappointed for every moment of silence.

"No, he is not," Russia says, and he feels all the attention fall on him, "he loves you. He doing this to keep you safe."

"Why are you talking?" Wyoming questions.

Russia looks away.

"Russ is telling the truth," America says, " I just want to keep you out of danger."

"That shouldn't mean that you put yourself in danger!" Pennsylvania exclaims. 

"What else can I do?"

"NO! I don't wanna hear that f***ing bulls*** again!" New York shouts, jumping to his feet and shoving his finger into America's face, "last time I heard that you got kidnapped!"

They fall quiet and Russia feels a lump in the back of his throat.

"I have to find my brother and my missing states," Russia says, staring at the wall behind their heads.

"You're not going alone are you?" Iowa asks, concerned.

"We should at least try to figure out what's going on and stop it," Connecticut comments.

"Besides, what else are we gonna do? Wait for them to find us again?" Wyoming asks, "We can't do nothing."

The children exchange glares and scowls when America stands up with his hands spread out as if to distance them.

"Hey!" America shouts, "Everyone has to settle down. Russia has to leave to help his brother and his states and he will not be going alone. I know you're upset, and I know this is stressful, and I'm sorry that this is making you all so upset. I didn't mean for it to cause you guys any discomfort or make you worry."

"We're going to worry about you and you can't stop that," Texas says, "We love you. But you gotta just..."

"I'll have help," America says confidently, "I'll be safe, but we need to do something."

"I'm coming with you," Connecticut insists.

"I am too," Texas says.

"We are not going to do this until after everyone is settled down and we take a little bit to calm down," America announces before turning to Russia, "and Rue, I promise, Ukraine can handle himself for a few days, but if we can't get ourselves together, we're gonna just get ourselves captured."

"But-" Russia protests.

"No," America says with an air of finality, "you're distracted and I'm exhausted, okay? If we want to go in there and get people out, we need to be able to think straight and fight our way in, okay?"

Russia reluctantly nods. 

America gives him a quick kiss and smiles.

"We're gonna go together, and I think some of the kids are gonna wanna come with us," America mutters, "and we have to be ready. Ukraine is your brother. He'll be fine for a few days."

Russia nervously agrees. 

'I don't want to stay here. I need to get Ukraine.' 

"No," America says, "I know you're thinking about leaving by yourself: Don't. We need to be ready when we leave. We can't risk anything."

Russia's nose scrunched up in frustration.

"*Okay,*" Russia relents.

America sighs.

"I know you don't want to wait here, Rue. But you have to take care of yourself," America mumbles.

"I know."

"We'll leave in a few days, but I can't just abandon the kids here."

"Okay," Russia says reluctantly.

Russia jumps when America puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen," America says, "we have motion detectors and an alarm system here. We'll be fine. The doors are solid oak and Dixie can put down the board to block them."

"Hey, Dad?" Georgia says, poking her head around a bend in the hallway.

"Yeah Peaches?"

"Do you want me to secure the bars over the windows?"

"Yes. Everyone needs some sleep."

"Sounds good to me. Also, Lulu and Sippi are starting supper in the kitchen."

America nods. "Are you going to help them?"

"Yeah. I will. I'm just going to secure the windows first."

"Alright-y kiddo. Go ahead."

Georgia smiles before walking out. Russia relaxes into the seat and yawns. He gently grabs America by the waist and pulls him into a hug. He sleepily tucks his face into the back of America's neck.

'Ukraine can handle himself.'

'I'll be there soon.'


	34. Hypocrite

Russia is just about to fall asleep when a phone rings. He jolts a little and hears America laughing at him for doing so. Someone answers, and the phone is handed to Russia. He yawns before putting it to his face.

"*Hello?*"

"*Hi,*" Belarus says, "*I want to know if you will be attending the UN meeting today.*"

"*There is a meeting today?*"

"*Yes. Did you not know?*"

"*When does it start?*"

"*In a few minutes. You might want to have the others with you as well.*"

"*Okay. Thank you.*"

Belarus hums before hanging up. Russia stares at the phone for a moment before America snaps in front of his face, catching his attention.

"What was that about?"

"There is a meeting being called by the UN. It starts in a few minutes and I agreed to attend."

"Aw man. Why'd you agree?"

Russia scowls and waves off the question. America pouts and crosses his arms.

"Now I have to go too," America grumbles. 

Russia chuckles before pulling himself out of the chair.

"Hey, you can use my laptop to attend. Everything is well enough encrypted," New York volunteers.

Russia agrees and America takes the laptop from the teen.

"Thanks, Yankee."

New York rolls his eyes and walks off with New Jersey. 

"Feel free to use the study," Dixie calls from the kitchen, "and y'all just holler if you need anything."

"Okay. Thanks Dixie!"

"No problem. Also, I'll send in Mrs. Finland and Maple Syrup when I see 'em."

America laughs. 

"Okay!" America exclaims, waving dramatically to the kitchen. Dixie pokes his head out and waves with the spatula and a loud laugh.

They walk into the study, and Russia smiles at the pounding steps on the stairs. He sits back in one of the office chairs and glares at the screen. 

'I should've disagreed.'

America gets the meeting set up quickly and joins. He pushes the computer to the back of the desk and leans on the desk's edge.

"Well, look who took his bloody time coming back," UK sneers.

"America, what happened to your eye?" Ireland asks, curious and not letting UK start his tirade.

America grins. "Got hit. What's it look like?"

Ireland gives a hardy laugh.

"Only you Ame," Ireland says, shaking his head.

"Wait, is Finland with you?" Norway asks.

"Yeah," America replies with a nod, "she'll be here in a minute to say hi."

Norway's eyes light up and Sweden pops into frame, bouncing around like an excited puppy. Russia stands up from his seat. 

"*I will go get them,*" he grumbles to America, who nods.

Russia walks out to the hallway and shuts the door behind him. He turns and calls for them as loud as he can bring his voice. There is a moment of silence before Finland appears from the first and Canada bounds down from the third.

"What's going on?" Finland asks curiously.

"Meri and I are in a UN meeting. They are asking for you."

"I still love that you call him that," Canada says with a laugh.

Russia rolls his eyes and allows them into the study.

"And when we're on the run from the feds, it's kinda hard to keep track of a pair of sunglasses," America says with the wave of his hand, "Oh! Hey Russ."

Russia grins and walks up beside America. Finland enters quickly and takes Russia's seat and Russia sees the others flinch on the screen. Russia could've laughed. He leans on the back of America's chair and Canada walks around him to stand in between the two chairs. 

Then Russia sees someone log in a little late. It takes a moment to load and when it does, Russia can see his family behind it. His father looks worse for wear, almost completely exhausted.

Then he could hear some of the audio.

"*Grandpa?*" a small voice asks.

Soviet turns for a moment and a fond smile grows on his face. 

"*Would you like to sit with me?*" Soviet asks someone off-screen, his voice is kind and soft.

"*Yes please,*" Alaska replies quietly. 

Alaska wanders into the frame, only her hair and hat visible.

'The wolf ears are cute.'

"Soviet," UN says, looking a little stunned, "would you like to introduce your little guest?"

Soviet doesn't respond, instead just taking Alaska into his lap. He situates the bundle of blankets under an arm before returning his attention to the meeting.

"She will not be a problem," Soviet says, a hardened look in his eye.

"But who is that?" UN pushes.

"It is none of your concern," Soviet answers bluntly.

Alaska curls up under the light pink blanket and Soviet leans back a little to accommodate. Russia feels his heart melt a little. 

'She looks so small,' he coos mentally.

"Is it another satellite state?" UN questions, suspicious.

"She is nothing of the sort and I suggest you not question me," Soviet says, giving a harsh glare in the direction of the camera that made even Russia shrink back a little.

UN sends one last suspicious look before turning to the others. 

"As mentioned earlier, welcome back to Finland, Canada, America, and Russia," UN says loudly, "Is there any news we should know about here?"

America raises his arm and begins waving it as UN seems to ignore him. Russia puts a hand on America's shoulder to keep him in his seat.

"*Calm down,*" Russia says.

"*But it's important! You know that!*" America hisses back.

"*He can't ignore you forever,*" Russia says, and America sits back with a pout, his hand still in the air.

Finland stands while UN rambles on about some economic trade deal that Russia knew wouldn't pass from the start and she quietly excuses herself. Canada does the same a few moments later and Russia falls back into the vacant chair.

'I want to leave like that,' he mentally scoffs, 'but I'm required.'

"Okay. I'm done waiting because this is important and I want to get the word out before all the peripheral viewers leave," America says, leaning against the table, "First, Philippines is with us, safe and just upstairs. Second, this isn't just one monster. This isn't and will not ever be a few random attacks."

"What are you talking about?" UN questions, his eyes flashing with a sort of recognition that Russia's hair bristles at.

"It's a huge, organized operation. We aren't sure yet on their main base of operation, but they have several separate bases and, from what we could gather, they seem to be set on 'unlocking' the gift of immortality and they plan to use personifications to do it," America explains.

UN hums with a nervous look.

"What do you know?" Russia questions.

"What?" UN stammers.

"What. Do. You. Know?" Russia demands, staring at the camera.

"We know you know more than you're telling us," America accuses.

"I can't-"

"You will tell us," America says, standing up and slamming his palms against the desk, "and you will tell us right f***ing now. My kids are in danger and we're trying to figure out what's going on. I know my government is involved."

"Are you involved?!" UK yells, pointing to the screen

"No, he is not," Russia defends, standing up and moving to stand behind America, crossing his arms, "he is trying to find why his children are targets."

"Tell us what you know," Soviet orders, cradling the bundle of blankets on his chest protectively. 

"We will not ask again," America threatens, his eyes glowing a light blue and his hands start sparking.

Russia puts a hand on his shoulder. America looks up at him with a bloodthirsty gaze and Russia shakes his head.

'It's not worth it.'

America turns back with a snarl but subdues his magic. For now.

"They were organized attacks from the beginning," UN mumbles.

"And?" America asks, his tone oddly calm as he sits back in his seat. Russia follows suit.

"We didn't know how they were being planned, but the abductions were targeting countries or personifications that were by themselves. We know that their main headquarters is in North America, though we don't know where."

"How do you know this?" America asks, glaring, "Are you involved with this bulls***?"

"No!" UN exclaims, waving his hands frantically, "I am not involved. We do have agents in the system, but none of them are high enough to confirm anything."

America hums disbelievingly but doesn't push it.

"How many attacks have happened?" Russia asks, forcing his attention back to the problem at hand.

"Dozens," UN admits, "at least dozens of speculated attacks. We know that 20, give or take a few, are definitively tied to the Revolution."

"So York was right with that name," America mutters.

"You knew?"

"We were guessing," America replies, "I was stabbed in the back. Nearly died of blood poisoning, but that's another story. Anyway, the knife and the random cameras-"

"Cameras?" Ireland interrupts

"While we were held, we were watched," Russia explains, "Dixie noticed that some of them had a strange symbol on the back."

"Who's Dixie?"

"Not important! So, we traced the symbol back to the Revolution. We don't know much, but we did see them recruiting. Also, Their bases are labeled with the Greek alphabet," America says, "I have another question. If you knew more than you let on, why didn't you tell anyone? Because let me tell you if I had known half that, I wouldn't have gotten myself captured to figure it out."

UN sighs as expectant gazes reach him. He is quiet for a moment.

'Answer him,' Russia thinks with a scowl.

"I was told not to by my superiors," UN finally mutters.

"That's f***ing stupid," America bites, "Do you know how much we lost trying to get information that you already had?!"

UN flinches.

"We were f***ing kidnapped and held there until, by a miracle, we were able to get out of there alive. We're lucky we made it out of that hijacked hospital at all!" America shouts, "then I lose an eye for maps and paperwork that you had access to?!"

"You have maps?!" UN exclaims. 

"You will let me finish, you f***ing b*****d. Do you know how hard it is to admit to my f***ing children that I don't know when anything will go back to normal?! I can barely tell distance anymore, and for what?! For you to tell us that you knew?!"

America huffs, scowling into the camera. As much as Russia wanted to take his hand and comfort him, he resists. Russia chooses instead to give UN a vicious and cold look.

'I don't want the other countries to know anything about us.'

America slams a fist onto the desk with a vicious snarl.

"You know what?! F*** THIS! F*** YOU! What's the F***ING POINT if you're not going to tell us ANYTHING?!" America shouts, throwing his hands to his sides and tears prick in the corners of his eyes.

"America, please calm down," UN pleads.

"Why should he calm down?" Russia growls, standing up and ignoring the lightheaded feeling that hits him when he does, "This is information we need to solve this issue and you don't tell us until we demand it. *Many of us almost die trying to stop an unknown enemy that you had eyes on. We are cursed, captured, chased, and nearly eaten, and only after we are almost taken for medical experimentation and tracked down by soldiers do you tell us anything.*"

The outer edges of Russia's vision go red and he bares his teeth. He pushes back the urge to punch the wall and scream.

"*My brother was taken because you couldn't tell us that you have people involved here that could have given a warning,*" Russia spits.

"You did not tell me you had maps or that you have access to one of the bases," UN snaps, crossing his arms. 

Russia slams his fists down on the desk, causing the desk to splinter on the edge. He ignores the wood digging into his hand and glares at UN with resentment.

"*You expect us to tell you anything when you keep information to yourself?!*" Russia wails, his mind searching for something to destroy, "*You get angry at us for having information when we must fight for it from you!*"

"Rue," America says quietly. 

Russia spins around and sees America looking up at him with a pleading look masking the anger and sadness Russia can see just beneath it. Russia takes a deep breath before turning back, giving a nasty glare. A stream of expletives flows through his mind as he tries to calm himself down.

Russia forces himself to sit back down, and he sneers at the laptop. UN makes a feeble attempt to change the subject, and the other countries present take it to avoid any more conflict. Russia begins dozing off in the chair, barely able to keep his eyes open long enough to listen to the full speech.

Suddenly, someone is gently shaking his shoulder. Russia blinks for a moment and seems America standing above him.

"Come on, sleepy-head. Let's go to bed. My room is down the hall," America says with a tired smile. 

Russia forces himself to his feet and stumbles behind America with a yawn. They walk in and Russia zeros in on the fluffy pillows and fuzzy looking blankets. He stumbles into the edge of the bed and falls into it. America giggles from behind him.

"Hey! You know I have to sleep there too," America teases, poking Russia in the side.

Russia grumbles and moves to put his head into the pillows. America laughs quietly before sitting on the edge of the bed. Russia reaches up and grabs America by his midsection and tugs him down. America topples ontop of him with a squeak.

"Sleep," Russia grumbles, hugging America like a child with their favorite doll.

America giggles, squirming a little to get comfortable.

"Can we have the blankets?" America asks playfully.

Russia grunts and sits up a little, using one hand to tug at the covers until they come loose enough to toss over them. Russia clings to America, relaxing with the heat America seemed to radiate. Russia kisses America's forehead before drifting off, bathed in a faint, light blue glow.


	35. Sleepy Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluffy fluff

"Hey, wake up sleepy head."

America shakes Russia's shoulder. Russia turns away and buries his head deeper into the pillows.

"Okay~ well, I'll see you downstairs when you finally get up," America says as he leaves the room. Russia groans and latches onto one of the pillows on America's side. He hugs it close to his chest, trying to get comfortable.

'Want Meri.'

Russia stumbles to his feet and blearily walks downstairs. He searches the room and sees America standing at one of the counters, talking with Finland and Dixie. Russia shuffles over and latches onto America, hugging him from behind and leaning against him. He feels America laugh and shift slightly, but America doesn't push him off.

America says something Russia couldn't make out before going back to his conversation with the other two countries. Russia grumbles into America's shoulder about him leaving. America begins to rub the side of his head and Russia begins dozing off again. He goes quiet and just basks in the bliss of right here, right now. His mind is left happily blank.

"Alright, come on," America says, "we're moving to the couch because I think you're about to pull me over."

Russia complies, letting go briefly to let America readjust himself. He follows America with a yawn and when America sits down, Russia lays down on top of him, curling up in his lap and hugging his torso. America laughs quietly before stroking Russia's hair, and Russia melts into him.

"Who knew you could be so clingy," America says with a laugh.

"I'm tired," Russia whines, "and you left me there alone."

"O-o-oh," America says, laughing, "well I'm sorry. So you get all clingy when you're tired?"

Russia doesn't answer and hides his face. America laughs and fluffs up Russia's hair before flattening it back down again in gentle motions with one hand. 

"Do you want some tea or coffee?" America offers.

Russia grumbles.

"Come on, you can't stay asleep all day," America teases.

America tries to pull Russia away, but Russia isn't having it today. He clings even tighter.

'Nope. Sleeping now.'

America laughs again before giving up.

"Looks like I'll be stuck on the couch for the foreseeable future," America comments, much to the delight of the others in the room.

Russia ignores the embarrassing feelings flooding his face and pretends to be asleep. Someone throws a blanket on top of his legs and America just keeps playing with his hair. Russia finds himself the most relaxed he'd felt, and he sinks into America's legs.

"Should we wake him up?"

"No, leave him be," America says softly, "It's been rough these past few weeks. Today is going to be a screens and relax type of day. I know there isn't much here to do, but I'll turn on some cartoons and we're just going to relax in pj's, okay?" 

"Okay!"

Fast footsteps patter away and race up the stairs. Russia feels America move a little before settling back down.

"Wow, you're heavy," America mutters. Russia crinkles his nose.

Russia hears the television turn on and flips through channels until it falls on something that says it is a "Cartoon Network." America throws the remote down and mumbles, "good enough."

Russia listens as the dialogue drags on and people shuffle into the room, dragging things in with them. Someone throws up his legs, so he curls them up against the back cushion, blocking America in on the couch. He pulls his face into America's stomach and America giggles and squirms a little.

"Hey! I'm ticklish," America says quietly behind his giggles.

Russia doesn't stop, just trying to find warmth and get comfortable. Eventually, he spins around, facing the tv and America traces shapes and letters on Russia's back, letting his nails graze along Russia's back. Russia goes limp in America's lap and almost falls off the couch. America grabs him and pulls him back. 

"You're gonna put me back to sleep at this rate," America complains, moving to have Russia on his chest as he lays on the couch. 

"Good for him," Dixie says, "you need it."

"I do not!"

"If you still feel tired, you should rest."

Russia can almost feel America's pout in the air and can't help the soft giggling that escapes his mouth. 

"Okay, now I know you're awake," America chides, poking Russia's cheek. 

Russia shakes his head, trying to hide the smile growing on his face. He slides his arms under America's shirt just above America's hips and hums contently. America sighs dramatically. America tries to push Russia off, but Russia giggles while he falls right back where he wants to be.

"Aagh!" America says loudly.

Russia laughs into America's chest. America sighs quietly before relaxing into the pillows tucked against the armrest. 

"You're mean," America complains.

Russia just tilts his head up and gives America a lopsided grin. America's resolve visibly melts at the look and Russia feels pride fill his heart. America's face goes pink and his mouth hangs open. Russia props himself up and kisses America on his parted lips before settling back on his chest. He faces the bright colors from the television, one eye open and smirking, waiting for America's reaction.

He sees America go a bright red and stare off into space. America brings a hand up and covers his mouth. When America looks back down at Russia, Russia quickly averts his gaze elsewhere.

"He's perfect," Russia hears America mutter to himself. 

Russia feels his face heat up significantly. He turns away from the TV and faces the cushions to hide his red face. After a moment, America brushes Russia's hair to the side and begins laughing. 

"Your hair looks ridiculous," America says, playing with a few fluffy locks. Russia turns his head back to the TV.

"Hey," America complains quietly before taking another few locks in between his fingers. 

Russia moves his tired eyes to the brainless slapstick humor in the cartoons, gazing over the heads of the states around the room with blankets or pillows, all laying about on the living room rugs.

Russia tries to memorize this scene, this feeling. He closes his eyes and listens to America's heartbeat, feeling his breathing. The rhythm is hypnotic and Russia drowsily closes his eyes.

'Perfect.'


	36. Jar of Horrors

The rest of the day slips away and Russia can't bring himself to pull away from America. He is warm and comfy here. It already around late afternoon. America props him up on his chest and feeds Russia marshmallows from the bowl laid in Russia's lap of blankets. 

Russia notes that he finally starts feeling normal again, and the warmth that had frozen over in his heart thaws.

"Hey, Rue?" America asks, tapping on Russia's chest.

"Mmhm?"

"Christmas is coming up," America mutters, "and... I don't want to have nothing to give the kids."

"It's not your fault," Russia mutters.

"I know. I just want something to give them. I want to celebrate with them, you know? I always do something. Always. But I don't know what to do."

Russia hums and begins thinking.

"What do you want to give them?"

"I don't know. Normally it's little things that I pick up that remind me of them, but all that is still at the Big House," America sighs, "They already missed one holiday. I want to make sure they can still enjoy themselves."

"Dad," New York interjects, "you don't need to get us anything. It's not a problem. We're just happy we aren't sleeping on the floor."

"But I don't want you guys to go without anything," America retorts, swapping to English.

"Dad, holidays should be the least of your worries." New York says, waving his hands, "you're being f***ing ridiculous!" 

"But it's coming up and I want you guys to be able to have an enjoyable time. This whole situation is hard enough as it is and I just want to make it better."

New York grumbles. Russia hums, lost in thought before it hits him. 

"Why not do the same thing?" Russia asks.

"What do you mean?" America replies.

"We could find things while we go on that mission and mail them here."

"There isn't an address here."

"But I do have a PO box," Dixie volunteers, "with a fake name and address."

"That would work," America ponders, "maybe..."

America goes quiet, tapping a random pattern on Russia's chest. Russia begins thinking, trying to plan on how he and America were going to get everyone something. 

'It would be hard,' Russia thinks, 'but if it's what America wants, I'll give it my best.'

Russia tries to think about what each of the states would've wanted, but the names swirl in his mind and they meld and Russia blinks. Although he never wanted to get up, Russia pulls away to find some paper and pens. He finds some upstairs in the office and he quickly returns to retake his spot. The space where his legs were had been taken by some of the younger kids, so Russia takes a seat on the carpet in between America's knees and he leans his back into the couch. 

America leans over and props his head up in Russia's hair.

"Rue, what are you doing?" America asks.

Russia takes the pen and begins writing the states out. He writes as many as he could remember, but he feels like he had forgotten a few.

"You forgot a few. Here, hand me the pen," America says.

Russia offers it and America leans over and writes out the rest of the list. He also adds the provinces after skipping a line. 

"So, what are you doing?"

"Making a list to get gifts," Russia says.

"Ooh. Okay. Hand it to me?"

Russia passes it up and America rips the sheet away and folds it up, sticking it into his sweatshirt pocket. Russia tucks the supplies under this couch, not wanting to get back up to put it away.

"I'm bored," America complains.

Russia laughs.

"We can find something to do," Russia suggests.

"Okay. Let's go!" America says happily.

America grabs Russia's hand and pulls him up to his feet. America smiles brightly and takes off down one of the open hallways toward the stairways. Russia laughs and trails behind. He reaches up to grab his hat, only to realize he had left it in the room.

America drags him up to the third floor to a large wardrobe against the back wall. America tears it open and boxes of board games nearly cause him to topple over as they stream out from behind the door. America grabs them and shoves them back. 

"Grab the tote bag down there," America says, kicking his foot in the air to point to the bag.

Russia grabs the cloth handles and pulls. The boxes leaning against it bulge out and America shoves the boxes back into the wardrobe, slamming the doors shut. America laughs, leaning against it.

"I should really clean that out at some point," America ponders before shrugging and pulling away. 

After making sure the doors wouldn't pop open again. They walk downstairs and Russia peeks into the bag. It's full of large, uniform wooden blocks. Russia places it down and the kids cheer. 

America sits on the floor in front of it and begins to pull out the blocks, stacking them in rows of three, alternating in directions. Russia sits next to America and begins pulling bricks from the bag and handing them off to America to stack them.

"Hey, Amy," Dixie calls from the kitchen.

"Yeah?" America calls back.

"How long do pickles keep?" Dixie asks, walking out from the kitchen with a large jar in his hand. 

"Uhh... I don't know. You might have to open it," America says with a shrug.

Dixie hums in response and he disappears back into the doorway to the kitchen. Russia hears a loud pop as a jar is opened and then Dixie shrieks. Russia can also hear the states running out of the kitchen and dining room, some of them gagging. Russia watches with interest.

"Oh Lord have mercy! What the fresh hell have I wrought upon this kitchen?!" Dixie shouts, scrambling around for something. 

Things clang around chaotically in the kitchen as things get knocked around on the counters and falling to the floor. Russia gets up and walks in. The sour smell of off vinegar lingers in the air. He swallows and sees Dixie throwing the bars back and wrenching open the kitchen window. Dixie chucks the jar outside and slams the window shut. 

"Bleh," Alabama complains, sitting on one of the barstools.

"Okay, new rule!" Dixie exclaims, "no opening anything without approval and checking the due date."

America walks in, looking baffled.

"Did you throw a f***ing pickle jar out the window?" America asks, his head tilted like a confused puppy.

"I-uh... yes," Dixie admits, his head high.

America begins laughing hysterically and nearly tumbles to the floor.

"I had to get rid of it!" Dixie defends.

"You had to get rid of it so you threw it out the f***ing kitchen window!" America cackles.

America starts laughing even harder, clutching his stomach, and nearly going blue in the face.

"A**hole," Dixie says, crossing his arms.

America tries to calm down. When he finally catches his breath to say something, he turns to Russia.

"We're ready to start if you want to play with us," America stammers, trying to keep his laughter at bay.

Russia smiles and follows America back into the living room, where a large tower is set up in the center of the room. Russia looks up at it with interest before turning his attention back to America, who's beaming up at the stack with pride before looking to Russia with a grin.

"Just take one out and put it on the top. The one to make it fall over loses," America explains.

Russia nods and sits next to America. America takes the first turn, and Russia takes the second. And when the tower starts to tip, Russia dives to the side to dodge the carnage.

"I win!" America announces victoriously, "wait, where did you go?"

Russia lifts his head up and meets America's gaze. America bursts into giggles and Russia laughs along. Russia helps reset it and retreats back to the couch, watching America play another game with the states.


	37. Bright Blue

Russia watches with a smile as America, North Carolina, Kentucky, Montana, and Wisconsin continue their game. America is laughing and dramatically flailing his hands in the air, and the children laugh when he wacks the tower. 

Russia watches as the scene seemed to slow down, his smile growing. He sees the horror register on America's face and how he tries to catch it while it crashes to the ground. Russia chuckles, leaning back into the cushions. 

America throws his hands in the air and shouts in despair, sending the teens into hysterics. Russia grins at the dramatic display. America helps reassemble the tower before stepping back, letting New Hampshire take his place. America falls back onto Russia. Russia laughs and shoves him off.

"Hey!" America whines playfully, pouting.

Russia beams. America punches Russia's shoulder before laying in his lap. Russia sighs good-naturedly and taps America's nose.

"Boop," Russia mutters to himself with a lovestruck smile.

America's eyes light up and he squeaks. America brings his hands up to his chest and begins shaking them, a big smile on his face. Russia watches America with a broad smile and he feels his heart swell. 

America throws his arms up and catches Russia by his shoulders, yanking Russia down in a huge hug. Russia's eyes spring open in surprise before he grins and wraps America up in his arms. America giggles happily, tapping a happy, nonsensical tune with his fingers. America pulls his legs up and just curls up in an excited, vibrating ball, hanging off Russia's shoulders.

Russia laughs and tucks his grin into America's chest. America tucks the bottom of his face into Russia's shoulder, his nose resting above.

"I love you," America sings, his voice muffled, "I love you. I love you. I love you~"

Russia pulls away and captures America's mouth in a deep kiss. America kisses back with enthusiasm. Russia moves, pulling America up into his lap. America straddles him and hooks his arms under Russia's, and grabs Russia's shoulders. Russia pulls away with a dopey grin, staring into America's eyes with happiness. Russia smiles, and America glows with happiness. 

Russia watches America with an enamored smile before noticing a bit of a blue glow around America's healthy eye. Russia looks around at America a little more, only to realize America is literally radiating bright blue magic. 

Light blue glittering spots spark around America, filling the air with static-y sparkles. 

Russia watches them with wide eyes, captivated by the light show. America blushes and tries to dismiss the magic by waving it away. Russia takes America's hand and brings them down to stop the attempt.

The glittering magic reflects in America's eyes, catching Russia's attention once again. Russia loses himself in America's pale eye, watching the reflecting sparkles. Russia finds himself slowly leaning forward, and a delightfully static feeling encases him. The world takes on a faint blue-ish tinge. Russia glances down at his hands, to see that his own body had taken a blue glow.

Russia's mouth falls open in shock. His eyes return to America and America smiles proudly.

"See," America says quietly, "you can glow too."

"How?" Russia mumbles.

America chuckles.

"Magic," America says sarcastically.

Russia looks back down at his hands incredulously.

"What the h*** are y'all doin'?" Dixie shouts, snapping Russia out of his daze, "you're gonna blind us!"

"How?" Russia asks, and the blue begins to fade.

"Y'all were sitting over there, glowing like a f***in' lightbulb," Dixie explains, crossing his arms.

The blue fades from around him and Massachusetts pokes his head out from behind America, rubbing his eyes.

"I didn't even know dad could glow that bright. Like God D***," Massachusetts comments.

"Was really cool looking though," Texas comments.

"Yeah!" Arizona exclaims, "it looked like you guys were on fire!"

"God, it's always fire with you," Nevada says, facepalming.

"Well fire is cool," Arizona replies.

America laughs and leans against Russia, tucking his face into Russia's collar. Russia leans his cheek against America's head.

"It was very pretty," Russia comments quietly.

"Most people call it distracting," America mumbles.

"I like it," Russia asserts, kissing America's temple.

"Really?" America asks quietly.

"Yes," Russia mumbles before getting lost in thought.

'Blue is very pretty.'

'Meri is very pretty.'

"I like blue," Russia mutters under his breath, and America giggles.

"Like dark blue?"

"Your blue," Russia replies, imagining the sparks.

"Oh my God," America says, giggling behind his hand and smacking Russia's chest, "shut up!"

Russia beams.

"I've got gumbo! Come and get it!" Louisiana calls from the kitchen. 

Countries and kids alike crowd into the kitchen to serve themselves, but America doesn't get up. Russia gives him a confused look. America winks.

"The line is too long, just give it a minute to clear out," America says with a smirk, pecking Russia on the cheek.

Russia blushes and nods. He holds America's hips before sliding his hands around America's lower back. His hands trail down a little further and America squirms with a giggle. 

"Hey," America scolds, "not here."

Russia grins before releasing America. America squeaks and lunges forward, grabbing Russia and nearly pulling Russia to the ground. Russia cackles and America swats at Russia's shoulder. Russia stands up, and America stays attached like a koala. Russia walks into the kitchen.

"How do I do this?" Russia asks.

"Put in rice and then fill the rest with gumbo," America mutters.

Russia pulls out two of the bowls and does as instructed before walking back to the table. He sees some of the states look up at him and then quickly turn and snicker into the bowl. Russia shrugs. He puts the bowls on the armrest of the couch and pulls out a side table to set up. Once it's standing in front of the couch, Russia moves the bowls to the table and sits back on the couch. 

America crawls off of him and takes one on the bowls and a spoon, cradling it in his lap and glaring at Russia, curling up against one of the back cushions.

"Why are looking at me?" Russia asks, taking his bowl 

"You almost dropped me!" America says. 

Russia grins and America scowls. America slowly shoots over on the cushions to get right next to Russia. Russia smiles and turns to look at the television and continues eating. America leans his head on Russia's shoulder, laying into Russia's side. Russia smiles and doesn't say anything.

They have a quiet dinner when the phone buzzes. America gets up and grabs the phone and glances at the screen before handing it off to Russia. Russia takes it easily and glances at the screen, spooning more food into his mouth.

"I know you are still recovering. Let us know when you leave. - Belarus"

Russia sticks the spoon in his mouth and types a response.

"I will tell you when I leave."

He sends the text before placing the phone on the tray table and going back to his bowl, but the phone buzzes before he could put it in his mouth. He crinkles his nose in annoyance and drops the spoon before taking the phone up.

"Okay. -Belarus"

Russia smiles and drops the phone again. He eats what he can and cuddles up with America, pulling America into his chest. America nuzzles into his chest and Dixie puts on an animated movie on the TV. Russia watches for a few minutes until he feels America begin to fidget around.

"What's wrong?" Russia asks.

"I just don't like movies," America admits. 

"Do you want to go up to our room?" Russia asks.

America nods. Russia stands up and America sits back, yawning. Russia smiles and scoops America up bridal style.

"Hey!" America shrieks.

"SHHH!"

America pouts and crosses his arms. Russia laughs and begins walking upstairs. 

"You're ridiculous," America complains quietly.

"I know," Russia replies calmly.

America scowls. Russia drops America onto the bed and America bounces a few times with a squeak. Russia grins. 

America leaps up and drags Russia down on top of him. Russia lands, laughing. But when he opens his eyes, he freezes and his face grows unbearably hot. America is laying down under him and Russia had his hands on either side of America's head. 

America stares up with a smirk, his face pink. America leans up and their lips meet. Russia closes his eyes and America loops his arms around the back of Russia's neck to hold himself up. Russia leans down and gets lost in the sensations. 

Russia feels around under America's shirt and America's hands trace over Russia's back and stomach, tucking Russia's shirt up to his chest. America hums before pulling away. 

"Man Rue, you're an amazing kisser," America mutters, "but I'm not in the mood to go any farther tonight, okay?"

Russia nods, kissing America one last time before backing off the bed. Russia sits next to America and America pulls his shirt back on, giving Russia a wide smile once he gets it back over his head. Russia smiles back and takes America's hand, rubbing the back of America's hand with his thumb. 

"Hey," America says quietly.

"Hi," Russia replies quietly.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

America jumps a little.

"Yes?" America asks. 

The door opens and Oklahoma pokes her head in and Nevada stands just behind her. 

"Dad?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"We were just wondering where you were," Oklahoma says quietly. 

"And we wanted to see if you wanted some pie," Nevada adds.

Russia sees America turn to him with a questioning look. Russia shrugs, and America stands up. Russia gets up and follows America out.

"He's following Dad like a lost puppy," Oklahoma mutters to Nevada.

Russia shoots them an amused look as they walk back downstairs. 

'I love him. I would follow him anywhere.'


	38. Torturous Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It can get intense and graphic, so read with caution after the "BOOM".

Russia wakes up slowly to a sliver of sunlight shining on his face. He had fun with the kids for the past few days, but today, he and America had to leave to start their mission. Russia sighs. 

At least they had some of their own fun before they lost their private room.

America shifts next to him before pulling him down into a kiss. Russia sloppily kisses back and runs his hands down America's back, tracing his spine down to his lower back and thighs. Russia enjoys messaging America's behind and America hums, feeling up Russia's chest before pulling away.

"You wore me out last night," America mumbles, staring up with half-open eyes.

Russia smirks. He admires the marks he'd left on America's collar bone. He pulls America back in for another kiss, and America returns the passion.

"It was fun," Russia teases 

"A'course. You're good~," America purrs.

Russia smiles back and closes his eyes. America takes a deep breath before sinking against Russia, slotting his legs in between Russia's. America lays that way for a second before pulling away suddenly, sitting up quickly on the bed. 

"S***!" America exclaims, the blankets pooling around his waist, "we need to get going!"

Russia nods and sits up. America grabs Russia's hand and pulls him up. 

"Come on!!" America exclaims. 

America pulls him into the connected bathroom to the room and they quickly clean up before America drags Russia downstairs to where Texas is waiting for them. 

"Who is coming with us?" America asks.

"Dixie's in his truck with Netti right now. Then once we get in, we'll be on our way," Texas replies, "it'll be a while before we get there, so we'll have to figure out a game plan."

Russia nods.

"All y'all's stuff is already in the back of the truck. You'll have to thank Ginny and Pig-Pen for getting your bags packed and all that. Now come on, let's get going," Texas says, waving them forward.

America hops into the passenger seat and Russia sits in the back with Texas and Connecticut. Connecticut gives a welcoming smile which Russia returns.

"Hey, Dix. Didn't know you would decide to come along," America says, pulling on the seatbelt.

"Georgia can handle the house," Dixie says, gripping the steering wheel, "and I ain't gonna be standing back no more. Can't have y'all getting hurt and not being able to do anything about it. Now, where are we headed?"

"The closest one from here is a good few hours North," America says, summoning the glowing map he had drawn in the warehouse, "So just start going north and we'll be good. I'll figure out better directions with an actual map."

DIxie nods and pulls away from the house. After just a few moments of driving, the entire building is hidden from view. Russia smiles before turning back to see America excitedly talking Dixie's ear off and Dixie gently shaking his head with a bemused smile.

"Okay," Connecticut says, crossing their arms, "we need a game plan before we start storming bases. Otherwise, it's just gonna end badly."

"Damn right," Texas agrees, turning to face Russia.

"What?"

"You are the only country who might actually be able to plan something," Connecticut says, "Dad has never been a 'planner' and Dixie doesn't get any father than 'shoot now, questions later'. We were hoping you could help." 

Russia goes quiet and stares out at the passing scenery.

"We should go to search for missing countries. We have basic maps, so we know where to start," Russia says.

"And how much damage are we causing?" Texas asks.

Russia shrugs.

"Do not get caught," Russia warns.

"Yes!" Texas celebrates, fist-bumping the air.

"Who are we looking for?" Connecticut asks curiously.

"Ukraine. There are others we will look for, but I want to find my brother," Russia replies.

"Sounds good to me," Connecticut says.

Russia looks back and spaces out. 

"We're close."

"Hey, what's with the black car?"

"DAD!"

BOOM

...

Russia sits up a little and groans. He rubs his head, trying to ignore the pulsing headache, and he looks around only to see that he is completely surrounded by a thick glass reinforced with metal bars with small windows 3 meters above the ground with some deceiving slots in between some of the bars for sound to carry. There is a metal exam table bolted to the ground in the middle of the room, and it looks like it has spots of rust on the restraints. It smells like blood. 

Russia looks around more and sees that each of them were in large, and separate cages. He looks a little closer and sees a brutalized Dixie curled up on the ground and covered in blood and bruises. Connecticut looks like they're about to cry and Texas looks beyond angry, but also scared. 

"Who's next?" a voice asks.

Russia whips around to stare at a scientist that walks into the hallway in between Russia's cage and America's.

"NO!" America screeches, "DON'T TOUCH THEM! PLEASE!"

Russia looks up and sees America's arms hanging from chains, his wrists bound to the ceiling, and his ankles shackled. Blue magic audibly snaps around America's eye, but America shrieks in pain and his muscles seize. America howls before going limp, and blue-ish black smoke drifts up from the shackles. America's breaths come in ragged gasps.

The horror builds in Russia's chest a lump forms in his throat.

"Me. I'll go," Dixie says, sitting up, his face bloody and one of his eyes swollen shut.

"Oh, no. Not you. You've been beaten. You don't need this," the scientist says with a sickly sweet tone, looking back down at his clipboard.

The scientist looks up at Texas, "What about you?"

Texas glances at Connecticut with a conflicted gaze. The reality of the situation hits Russia like a truck and he leaps to his feet before he gives Texas the chance to answer. 

"NO! No. Take me," Russia says, throwing his hand in the air.

The scientist hums for a moment before a smirk appears on his face that disappears quickly. Russia steels his face over and the scientist walks off.

"What's going on?" Russia asks Texas, who looks away.

"We're at one of the bases. They ambushed us," Dixie chokes, "They caught us by surprise and restricted Amy's magic. Amy already tried to escape, so they have him restrained, and Connecticut's magic is blocked here."

Russia examines the area and sees they aren't the only ones here, but that most of the other inhabitants looked almost catatonic in their own cells. Russia flinches when he hears the door squeak open. His eyes go wide and sprint for the exit.

But before Russia can make it out the door, he's struck in the stomach by something that sends bolts of electricity through his veins. He flys back and his legs shake violently. The scientist tsks and writes something down on the clipboard. Russia tries to push himself back to his feet, adrenalin rushing through his system and his heart skips a few beats as he tries to stumble around the scientist. 

The scientist jabs him in the stomach again with what looks like a cattle prod and Russia collapses into a heap on the floor.

"You will learn to stay down," the scientist sneers.

Russia ignores the words and tries again to scramble to his feet, only for his legs to go limp against his will. Panic ravages his mind and he tries to crawl his way forward. Then several people walk in dressed as guards. They pick Russia up from the floor and strap him down to the table. Russia thrashes against them, but his arms are hard to control and his legs had gone numb.

"I will take another one to experiment on," the scientist suggests with a smirk.

Russia's frantic thrashing calms and he forces himself to lay back.

'Better me than any of them.'

"Good country," the scientist coos, stroking Russia's cheek.

Disgust fills Russia and he swallows back the nausea that follows.

"Where am I?" Russia spits, and the scientist chuckles.

"You're with me!" The scientist cackles.

"Who are you?" Russia asks, biting back his growing anger.

"I am the main researcher for our cause, of course! Now, lay back and keep quiet~"

Russia shuts his mouth and tries his best to look around until the scientist grabs a strap and yanks it. Russia's head flies back and hits the table with a CLANG.

"Now, let's explore the healing you countries have. Oh! I have been so excited to get my hands on another one of you!"

Something rolls into the room that is loud with clanging and metallic sounds. He can hear muffled shouting. 

"What are you doing?!" Texas shouts, his tone horrified.

The scientist shoves a gag into Russia's mouth and Russia swallows back the vomit creeping up his throat. 

The cloth tastes like old blood and vomit.

Russia stares with wide eyes and tries to figure out what was about to happen, but the metal things that he hears clambering around remain out of his view. Then something pierces the back of his hand. His back arches in agony and he screams. The smell of burning flesh permeates the air. 

It feels like his hand is being thrust into a flame, and he feels nails being buried into the back of his hand. His thrashing had loosened the restraints enough to turn his head and he sees the scientist with a sadistic grin poking a red hot nail into Russia's hand and fingers. The scientist puts the nail aside and begins writing while closely examining the wounds. 

"Interesting..."

The scientist prods at the throbbing wounds with gloved hands and pushes the flesh apart as it tries to stitch itself back together. Muffled screams fill Russia's room and Russia's face streaks with tears. His hand burns horribly and throbs with every heartbeat.

"Flex your fingers," the doctor demands.

Russia tries, but stars dance in his eyes.

"Do it!" the doctor demands and a piercing pain burns through Russia's hip. 

Russia wails and his vision goes white. He clenches his hand and the burning recedes, and the hole throbs as it is exposed to the air. He wheezes and tries to blink away his tears. 

"Russia!" Russia hears America cry out.

Russia's head whips around. To his left was America, who screams and cries hysterically. To his right is the doctor. In front of him is the frozen faces of the states staring up at him horrified. 

'I can't let this happen to them.'

He bites the cloth in his mouth to keep from crying out while the doctor puts the nail back on the table. 

"Bring it in," the doctor calls. 

Someone walks in and he hears America shrieks. Russia spins around to stare at one of the guards walking in with a large, steaming pot. Texas begins shouting obscenities and Connecticut begins trying to bargain with the guards.

"Stop," the doctor says before leaning over Russia's face, his eyes dead except for an evil, sadistic gleam.

"Well, you have two choices. One, you're drenched in boiling water."

Russia's heart drops.

"Or we could make one of the others take your place."

Russia begins hyperventilating at the thought of the pain.

"So, what'll it be?"

"Russ!" Texas shouts desperately, "I can take it! I'll take it! Please!"

'No. I will not let you get hurt if I don't have to.'

Russia stares the doctor in the eye. 

"Option one?" the doctor asks, and Russia nods, determined.

The doctor giggles. 

"Alright!" the doctor cheers, a horrible smile on his face. 

Russia is blinded by searing pain as the scalding water begins burning away the skin on his chest and stomach. He screeches and thrashes as the burning tunnels into his skin. The doctor begins scratching at him and Russia throws his head back against the table, not seeing anything but stars. 

Russia can faintly hear America screeching incoherently. He turns his gaze to America, who looks inconsolable, sobbing and thrashing against the restraints. 

'Better me than them. Than him.'

Russia's surroundings begin to fade away as the doctor begins taking samples and taking notes. Russia feels his chest and stomach skin go completely numb and the doctor continues to prod at the injuries. He stares blankly, his mind spinning with pain. 

'Want to find him.'

Russia stares up at America, who cries and screams into the empty air, the cuffs around his wrists smoking. 

'He's sad.'

'I don't want him to be sad.'

"Meri?" Russia tries, but the cloth muffles it to the point that it doesn't make any sense. 

America looks up at him and more tears gather in his eyes.

'Oh no.'

'Am I making him sad?'

"I'm sorry," Russia tries to say.

America's head whips up and stares forward with tears before America begins to throw himself around the room against the chains, screaming in rage. Russia's eyelids grow heavy but he forces them back open, trying to watch through his double vision. 

The chains snap and Russia is blinded by a bright blue light and he sees America slams against the walls. The doctor didn't seem concerned at first until the glass shatters and Russia hears a horrible scream. A scream of anger, pain, and grief.

America summons his scythe and slices the cages open, breaking Dixie, Texas, and Connecticut out of their restraints before rushing into Russia's room. The guards try to take him down, only to be sliced in half. 

Their pieces scatter along the floor and they ooze blood across the floor.

Connecticut summons throwing knives and pins the doctor to the wall by his hands. They laugh sadistically.

America leans over Russia and begins pumping magic into Russia. A thick sheet of magic surrounds his injuries and Russia stares up, watching America's magic begin to flicker in his eye. America's eyes begin to fall, but he scowls and continues to shove as much magic as he could manage into his efforts. Russia feels his pain begin to fade and the waxy skin on his chest began to rebuild itself. 

Connecticut cuts Russia's restraints and removes the gag. Russia turns over and vomits before falling back onto the table. America begins shaking. 

The cuffs are vibrating and smoking horribly.

"Are you okay?" Russia mumbles.

America's breathing is labored and he trembles, his eyelids fall unevenly. The magic flickers, but the sheets of healing magic remain consistent.

"Dad, you have to stop!" Connecticut demands.

"No! I let this happen!" America wails.

"You're killing yourself!" Dixie yells, trying to pull him away, "STOP!"

America refuses and continues forcing magic into Russia, but the magic that had been in his working eye fades away. 

"America?" Russia mumbles.

America's magic begins to spark wildly and America sways. He leans against the table before crumbling. Russia tries to sit up, but screams. The hole in his hip throbs and his skin burns. He falls back and breaths heavily.

"We have to go!" Connecticut says.

"No," Russia interrupts, "we have to find anyone else who is here."

"But-"

"No!" Russia screams, biting back his cry of pain, "this can not be for nothing!" 

Texas and Dixie glance at each other and nod. 

"Go," Dixie says with a dark look, "and take care of them. They deserve it. And grab the guns."

The states smirk and run off, and he hears screaming and gunfire under their running footsteps. Dixie stands over them, trying to prop America up in a more comfortable position. 

Russia lies back, trying not to aggravate his injuries any further, feeling completely helpless.


	39. Agony and Escape

Russia stares up at the ceiling and a sinking feeling settles in his stomach. He tries to sit up, only for his hip to scream at him for trying to move at all. He falls back and his vision spins. 

'I have to get up.'

'I have to.'

Russia pushes himself up and bits his cheeks to keep from crying out. The skin on his torso pulls uncomfortably and his right-hand throbs. He pulls his right hand inward but carefully makes sure that it doesn't touch his stomach. He stands up on shaky legs and the world blacks out for a moment while he gains his footing. 

Russia's vision returns shortly after and he stumbles forward. He limps over to the doctor, ignoring the pangs from his hip as he approaches. Looking down at the pathetic figure pinned to the wall, Russia snarls.

The doctor looks up at him with fear. 

"Please don't-"

Russia has heard enough. He grabs the scientist by his neck with a low growl. He pins the doctor up against the wall and the doctor's legs swing wildly as he chokes. The knives that had pinned the doctor clatter to the floor, dripping with blood.

"You torment us! Why?!" Russia screams.

"R...research," The doctor rasps.

Russia presses harder and silences the man. The doctor claws at Russia's hand frantically until his movements become sluggish. Russia drops him and he collapses to the floor, gasping and weak.

Russia glares down at the doctor hunched over on the ground. He shuffles forward and the scientist jumps back.

"I'll tell you anything!" The scientist begs.

"How do we unlock the doors?" Russia demands, his eyes narrow.

"The keys," the scientist chokes, tossing a set of keys at Russia's feet.

Russia kicks them back to Dixie before turning back to the scientist. Russia's scowl deepens and the edges of his vision become a blood red. Before he gives it much thought, he takes one of the knives from the ground and swings.

SLASH

The scientist falls back, clawing at his throat and gurgling as his blood sprays from his neck and the sticky red substance pools on the cell floor. Russia can't find it in himself to regret it. 

He turns around to see America propped up on one of the walls and Texas and Connecticut holding their own against the hoard of guards streaming into the hallway. Dixie hurries around to the calls and begins to try to unlock as many of the cages as he can. Russia looks back down and sees America limp and pale.

Russia leans over and ignores how his vision spins. He outs his fingers to America's neck, feeling for a pulse. When he feels a strong heartbeat under his fingertips, the relief nearly brings him to his knees.

"You're okay," Russia says hoarsely under his breath, and he feels the tears return. He forcefully swipes them away. 

"I have to get you out of here," Russia mutters.

Russia knows he's too injured to carry him. And although the realization comes with shame and longing, Russia begins trying to come up with another way out of here. He begins searching around when he sees Dixie with someone on his back and Connecticut and Texas being cornered.

Russia stumbles forward and yanks one of the reinforcement beams from the remnants of the wall. The pipe has shards of glass poking out from the top and Russia gives one last look to America, his shackles still smoking.

'Either I fight.'

He looks back to the crowd.

'Or this is for nothing.'

Russia hobbles out and over the broken wall, even as the pain causes his vision to double. He scowls.

'Must fight. Must fight. Must fight. Must fight. Must fight. Must fight. Must fight. Must fight.'

Russia jumps right into the fray. His heart pounds in his chest and he fights his way to Texas and Connecticut. He stands in front of them and bashes in the faces of the guards coming toward them.

Screaming.

Blood.

Vibrations of impact travel down the pipe.

Everything blurs into swirls of colors, so Russia aims for the blobs of red and black. Suddenly, someone grabs his wrist. He spins around to strike at them, only to see that this person wasn't wearing red or black. He pauses, confused, and the person drags him away.

'No!'

Russia tries to yank his arm away.

'Want to make them pay.'

The figure's words are muffled, and Russia almost manages to pull away.

"----____--___-_--_-___ AMERICA-!"

'Meri?' Russia thinks.

Russia stops fighting and lets the person tug him along. The walls blur together and he tries his best to keep up. He can barely keep himself upright, and his feet tangle together underneath him. 

The person dragging him to going too fast for him to keep up, but Russia's throat is too dry to say a word. their footsteps ring against the tiled floors.

Muffled gunfire.

Spinning tiles.

Bright light.

Sunshine.

Suddenly, Russia is shoved into the backseat of some kind of vehicle. He struggles to sit up and a muted pain reminds him of the hole in his hip. Then his hands start to feel wet. Russia looks down and sees the skin on his chest and stomach turning dark red.

Rusty aroma.

Revving engines.

Red.

His legs get moved and propped up on something warm.

Suddenly, his shoulder jerks. He looks up and sees someone shaking him. Their flag a mass of light green and white. Russia's head begins to fall to the side.

Then, he's sitting up and he's screaming. The pain from his pelvis blinds him to anything else and a rusty taste fills the back of his mouth. 

Something wraps his torso, arms, and legs in bandages. His skin feels wet and his torso burns horribly.

He's laid down and his legs are straightened and his head ends up somewhere warm. He looks up at the kaleidoscope of dull and bright colors that swirl around above him. Sunlight shines through onto his face and a face he doesn't recognize hovers over him, blue and green mix and specs of yellow surrounding the blue center. 

Someone seems to be talking, but the words hold no meaning.

His eyelids feel heavy and his mind feels crowded. 

Breath in.

Breath out.

Breath in.

The world fades in and out and his vision goes black, and the sleep stifles some of his pain. He forces his eyes back open.

'Where me?'

'Where Meri?'

Russia begins trying to look around and he squints his eyes at the blurry outlines around him. The car is unfamiliar. It smells strange. 

'Where Meri?'

Russia's eyes swivel around and he tries desperately trying to focus on anything around him. He doesn't see anyone he recognizes. Blurs of colors strip away any flags he would've known.

'Where Meri?!'

Russia grows more frantic as he whips his head around. 

"What is wrong!? Are you okay?" a loud, unfamiliar female voice asks from above him.

Russia's head whips up and he gets ready to struggle away.

"Russia," a more familiar voice shouts, and Russia stills for a moment.

"Russ, we're okay. Dad's okay, he's just sleepin'. Don't fight against Ms. Nigeria. She's only trying to help," the voice soothes with a southern twang.

Russia can't remember who the voice belongs to, but he knows that he can believe what it says. Russia lies back down and his fuzzy thoughts fade quickly. The world fades away.

Russia passes out.


	40. Nuclear Backlash

Russia jolts awake with a scream creeping up his throat. Images of his tortures flash in his mind's eye and his body lurches forward as if to sit up only for his hip to force him back down with a cry of pain. He falls back with tears in his eyes and sniffles, holding the hole in his hip.

"You must calm down," a calm voice says from above him.

Russia looks up and sees a mature face and a familiar flag that takes him a moment to recall.

'Nigeria.'

Russia focuses on slowing down his breathing and tries to ignore the excruciating pain in his abdomen. He takes a deep breath and flinches. He sits quietly and shivers, but the movement feels disconnected.

Russia starts looking around and sees a limp America tucked into a nest bunch of blankets on one of the seats. As soon as Russia sees that America is okay, he slumps back again with a sigh of relief. 

"Is everyone okay?" Russia asks hoarsely. 

Dixie turns around in the driver's seat with a worried look.

"Yeah. We're okay," Dixie says, "at least, for now. You and Egypt need some medical intervention. But we ain't sure if we're being followed cuz this is one of the cars from the base."

Russia hums quietly and closes his eyes. He tries to breathe more deeply, but the skin on his chest stretches painfully in protest. His breathing shuttered. 

"I know Russ," Connecticut says softly, "I'm sorry."

"I still could've taken it," Texas mutters.

"No!" Russia exclaims before cringing in pain, "no."

Texas huffs and crosses his arms.

"How long until we get back?" a familiar voice asks.

'Brazil?'

"It... it might be a while," Dixie mutters.

Russia tries his best not to move or make any noise, but every breath makes him cringe. He looks up a little more and sees Nigeria sitting underneath him. He blushes and tries to pull up. Stars flash in his vision. He gasps. Nigeria gently lays him back down.

"You are okay," Nigeria says calmly, "do not move."

Russia relaxes a little and his face grows red. He tries his best to go back to sleep to avoid the pain, but with every bump, he jolts and tries not to cry. Tears prick the corners of his eyes. 

"It is okay," Nigeria says quietly, gently petting the top of his hair, "it is okay."

Russia continues to try to fight the tears back until they hit another pothole and he chokes. He weeps quietly, embarrassed. Dixie presses hard on the breaks and Russia yelps when Nigeria grabs him to keep him from falling off the seat. He feels his senses go fuzzy and he finds he can't focus on anything around him. 

"Shhh," Nigeria says quietly before she begins singing a soft song.

The tune sounds like a lullaby, but Russia doesn't recognize any of the words. He forces his attention to it, trying to understand the meaning. Russia knew he wouldn't have a chance, but it is something else to focus on. He feels his eyelids slide closed. 

When he wakes up again, it's dark outside. 

Russia groans quietly. He's sitting up now, but he finds that as long as he doesn't move, it isn't too painful. He looks around and doesn't see much in the dark, but the ceiling looks familiar. 

'Am I in the truck?'

Russia examines the area in front of him and gazes out the windshield. The lights outside give Russia the impression that one of the headlights had been broken. 

There is some quiet chatter from the front seat and Russia looks around to the others in the car. He sees Connecticut sitting in the footwell, leaning their head against the seat next to him. America is curled up in the corner of the backseat on the passenger side. Egypt is curled up in the fetal position in the middle seat is sitting next to him. 

Russia leans his head against the headrest behind him. His hip throbs, but he decides against adjusting. To Russia's left is Texas, who has his head back and his legs tucked up, staring out the window. Brazil is seated in the front passenger seat and Russia can see her hands flailing around while she rambles in what sounds like one of the romantic languages and Dixie replies in a similar vein.

Looking down, he sees Nigeria sitting in the footwell with Connecticut and a pang hits him. Russia bites his lip and clutches at his hip, trying his best not to curl up on instinct. His eyes fill with tears that he swipes away at them. His skin pulls uncomfortably and trying to lean on his legs causes his skin to burn painfully and he bites back a cry of pain. 

Russia sticks his fingers into his hair and tugs, trying to distract himself from the burning on his chest. He stays like this for a few minutes until the engine of the truck shuts off. Motion begins around him and Texas begins to stretch.

"Hey!" Connecticut says.

"Wha?" Texas mumbles, rubbing his face.

"You kicked me," Connecticut says with crossed arms.

"Oh. Sorry, Netti. Didn't mean to, honest."

Texas carefully hops out and helps Connecticut and Nigeria out of the footwell before helping Russia to his feet. Russia bites his cheek and drops his legs to the ground. His sore muscles have him leaning heavily against Texas, hobbling to the house. The rubbing friction under his shoulder made him want to cry. 

As soon as they make it inside, Texas helps Russia lie down on the L-shaped couch. Russia lets out a heavy sigh of relief, but even just keeping the bandages on felt like laying on the hood of a hot car.

"Russ?" Louisiana says, sounding concerned.

"Whoa! Holy f***!" Massachusetts exclaims, "What happened to you guys?"

"We were captured," Dixie says, laying Egypt into one of the love seats, "I need you to do a magic assessment on Amy. Have Netti and Lulu help, he's drained. Bama, I need you and Mississippi to get the Aloe and stuff. Russ over here has some pretty severe burns. And I need someone to get Cali and York to help with Egypt."

A flurry of motion causes Russia's head to spin

Suddenly, someone carefully props him up and he bites his cheek. The bandages are unwrapped and he tries his best not to shout. Then something cool is spread on his chest and he immediately relaxes.

Relief shakes him from his core as the burning finally begins to subside. His breathing becomes deeper and more relaxed and his eyes closed with bliss. 

"Yeah, sorry about the wait," Texas apologizes, "are you good now?"

Russia nods and opens his eyes to look around. He sees Massachusetts standing over America and America is surrounded by light green. Massachusetts scowls with sweat pooling on his forehead.

Then Massachusetts stumbles back and leans over, breathing heavily. 

America begins trembling. Russia feels his heart skip a beat and he sits up as much as his hips would allow, watching with concern.

America's body shakes violently before hunching forward and throwing up onto the rug. 

Only, it wasn't anything that could've been from his stomach.

It's a glowing, concentrated mess. It smells foul and it fizzles against the rug like acid. It's a dark, but radiant blue and looks almost like a cartoonish representation of radioactive waste. 

"Don't touch!" Dixie shouts from behind the states before pushing his way to the front, "if you do, it ain't gonna be pretty."

"What's going on?" Russia asks, panicked.

"Amy overdid it. As far as I can tell, when he pushes himself too far, he'll get unbalanced. This is just what happens. But it also means it's getting real bad. It's normally not this much," Dixie trails off with a worried look in his eyes.

Russia swallows back the lump in his throat. America doesn't make a noise as he expells the sour magic. And with every passing second, Dixie seems to grow more and more panicked. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the flow of spoiled magic slows. When it finally stops, America throws his head back and gasps before resettling into his blankets, his eyes remaining closed.

Dixie keeps the kids back, even as they try to push past him.

"Mass," Dixie demands, "get the salt."

Massachusetts nods and runs off with Virginia to gather several bags of rock salt that would've normally been used to keep driveways from freezing over. Several bags are dumped into the mess and it fizzles for a moment before the sound and smells from the vomit shrink.

The pile of debris is swept off the rug and thrown out. The rug threads look partially dissolved.

'Are you going to be okay?' Russia thinks, looking to America.

Worry keeps Russia awake, even through the night. He had been given the bottle of Aloe to reapply as he wanted to, and he holds it tight in his hands.

Russia pushes himself up and hisses at the pain in his hip, but decides that it doesn't matter. He slowly makes his way to America, who doesn't respond. America looks too calm, and Russia reaches up carefully and cradles America's cheek. 

"I hope you're okay," Russia mutters, staring at America's eyelashes and cheeks.

Russia lays back into the couch cushions at America's side and sighs. Russia slowly and carefully lays his head on America's shoulder. To Russia, seeing America like this made him afraid of doing too much lest he break the one he adored.

Russia lies restlessly, trying to keep his burns covered and his injured hand stays cradles in his lap. He uses his good hand and searches in the blankets for America's. Russia holds America's limp hand carefully, and he tenderly kisses it before bringing it to his lap.

"I love you," Russia mutters, "I'm sorry."


	41. Snarky Comments and Staircases

Russia didn't remember falling asleep, but he's startled awake by soft whimpering from somewhere next to him. All the countries that could climb the stairs, were moved to stay on cots upstairs, leaving Russia and America on the larger couch and Egypt on one of the smaller couches in the living room.

Russia, disoriented, looks around. Looking to his side, he sees America curled up and quietly weeping. Russia pulls himself up and winces. 

'I can't do anything to help.'

The thought is sobering, but Russia decides that he isn't going to leave America to suffer. 

'Dixie can help. Must find Dixie.'

Russia forces himself to his feet and he muffles his yelp with his fist.

'Can't give up now.'

Russia stumbles to the stairs and takes a moment to breathe before staring up the staircase, his head spinning. Another whimper, louder this time catches his attention, and he steels himself over. Russia forces himself to his feet and up the first step. He claws at the handrail and collapses as soon as he makes it up the staircase.

Russia gasps. He stays on the floor for a second and tries to catch his breath before rolling onto his hands and pushes himself back up to his feet.

'Need to get help.'

Russia uses his shoulder to balance himself on the wall and he wanders down the hallway. His vision gets spotty and his peripheral vision has all but blacked out. He makes it to Dixie's door before his legs gave out on him and he crumbles like he was made of wet cardboard. He hits the floor with a heavy thump, and the snoring from in the room suddenly stops.

The door opens a moment later and Dixie stares down at Russia, the remnants of sleep and confusion in his eyes.

"Russia?" Dixie asks, sounding exhausted and baffled.

"Something wrong. America needs help," Russia explains through clenched teeth, propping himself up on his arms.

Dixie's eyes go wide before he rushes downstairs, his footsteps pounding against the wood. Russia pushes himself onto his hands until the pain in his right hand becomes excruciating. He falls back down, landing hard on his chest. He grunts at the impact but finds it's not as painful as he had expected. His eyelids begin to fall.

Strange footfalls echo through the hallway, and a set of feet, one real and one prosthetic, skid to a stop in front of Russia's nose.

"Russia? What are you doing? How did you get up here?" New York asks from above him, sounding perplexed.

"Something's wrong with Meri. Needed help," Russia says quietly.

Russia tries again to force himself up and off the cold ground. He hears another kid come running up through the hallway, and Russia looks up just in time to see New Jersey nearly tripping over him to get to New York.

"Woah!" New Jersey exclaims, "What the f*** is going on?"

"SHHH!" New York hisses, "and I think something's wrong with Dad."

"I'm gonna go get Tex," New Jersey says before running off.

"Wait!-" New York shouts before he cuts himself off and sighs.

New York crouches as much as his prosthetic would allow and looks at Russia in the eyes.

"Do you want to stay up here or do you want to go back downstairs?"

"Downstairs," Russia replies.

New York nods before looking back up.

"Tik," New York says, faint disdain in his tone, "we need your help."

"You need my help?" Texas asks smugly, a teasing undertone to his words.

"Shut the f*** up and get your a** over here. We need to get Russia back downstairs and check on Dad," New York says, his voice tight.

Texas begins heaving Russia off the ground while New Mexico and New Jersey rush back down the hallway to help. When they finally get back downstairs and enter the living room, America is gone and Dixie is nowhere to be seen. America's pile of blankets slowly falling off the edge of the couch. 

Russia is deposited next to where America had been, and New York and New Jersey rush off to find America. New Mexico hands Russia the bottle of aloe that had fallen to the ground. Texas sits again the arm on the opposite edge of the couch and New Mexico whines.

"I want to go back to bed," New Mexico complains, throwing her arms to the sides.

Texas shrugs half-heartedly.

"I want to stay down here in case Dad needs any more help," Texas says.

New Mexico grumbles before stumbling around and ultimately curling up in a chair in the corner of the room, asleep again in seconds.

Russia lays his head back and closes his eyes, completely exhausted. Even still, he refuses to go to sleep completely until he knows America is back. 

Russia's head pops up at the tell-tale footsteps of New York. He sees New York and New Jersey walking back in.

"Move over, you f***er," New York says softly, waving at Texas to move his legs off the sofa. 

Texas complies and makes room for the two on the couch. New York falls back gracelessly and huffs as his back hits the pillows. New Jersey follows suit. 

"So what's goin' on?" Texas asks.

"Dixie is in the bathroom with Dad," New York says with a sigh, "It doesn't look good. F***."

New York runs his hands through his hair and Texas sits up straighter, more attentive now.

"York?" Texas asks, reaching out a hand to put on New York's shoulder. New York dodges the attempt.

"Texas, I'm being serious. Dad is hacking up even more of that f***ing magic s*** than before. Dixie has it handled for now, but it's...I... F***!" New York spits before putting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands.

"Yorky, you gotta calm down," New Jersey says, leaning back with his arms in the air and his hands behind his head.

"I know Jerz, but I've never seen Dad this f***ing sick," New York retorts, sounding angry and scared.

Russia's heart sinks.

"Dad'll get through it. He always does," Texas asserts quietly, moving to stand, "Let's go make some coffee or something. Big A, you up to it?"

New York sighs but still gets up to follow. Russia watches them go before turning his attention to New Jersey, who stares blankly at the ceiling.

"Will he be okay?" Russia asks quietly.

New Jersey's head whips around to face Russia before he sighs with a soft laugh.

"Who? York? Yeah, he'll be fine. He just needs something to distract himself. Hopefully Tex gives him something noncaffeinated. He just gets panicky, ya know? Kinda wish he'd calm down a little and just sleep, but what can you do?" New Jersey adds with a shrug.

Russia nods before leaning his head back again. He stares up at the ceiling until he hears someone enter the room from one of the side hallways. Russia looks up and sees Dixie dragging America over to the couch. New Jersey gets up to help and together, they get America back on the couch where he had been before.

America lies down in the blankets and cuddles into them, shivering.

Dixie pulls the blankets over him before backing up and handing Russia a blanket as well. Dixie wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and sighs.

"All y'all okay?" Dixie asks.

"Yeah, we're good," Texas says, leaning his head against the doorway to the kitchen with crossed arms.

New York reenters the room a moment later with a mug and he paces around the room for a few moments before leaving the cup on the coffee table and tugs at Russia's blanket. Russia jolts a little.

"Havta examine your cuts and s*** to make sure you didn't f*** anything up," New York mutters, lifting Russia's arm.

Russia relaxes a little, trusting that New York wouldn't hurt him.

Dixie yawns and stretches before hunching over, looking almost like he had fallen asleep where he's standing, swaying a little.

"Dix, you're gonna fall over," Texas says with a chuckle.

Dixie jolts upright with wide eyes. He stumbling to a pile of linins left on the carpet and falls into it, asleep before he landed, snoring softly.

"God D***, I forgot how much he snores," New Jersey comments, snark painting his words.

New York snickers into his drink.

"Hush," Texas scolds lightly, sitting back down on the couch and cradling his own cup in his hands.

America groans quietly, and Russia whips his head around. America reaches forward blindly and latches onto Russia's good arm, pulling in Russia's hand and putting it against his face. Russia shifts a little to take the extra stress off his shoulder and smiles softly.

"That's a good sign," New York mutters.

Russia hums, completely distracted.

'So pretty.'

"What is?" New Jersey asks.

"Dad's moving," Texas answers, "prolly means he'll be waking up soon."

Russia smiles, and finally, his thoughts begin to calm from their panicked spiral. Russia sighs with a small smile. 

'Don't scare me like that.'

Texas gets up to put his cup in the kitchen and when he gets back, he moves to the center corner of the large couch. Texas settles and tilts his hat over his face, relaxing into the pillows. New York and New Jersey quietly sign to each other in the moonlight from the windows. Russia lets the rest of the tension leave his muscles and he stares at America's features, trying to soak it in. 

Russia feels his eyelids get heavier, but he tries his best to stay awake, afraid something else might happen, but having America holding his hand made enough of that worry fade for him to fall asleep.

The world grows calm and quiet as Russia gets lost in his dreams.


	42. Awake and Dramatic

Russia wakes up slowly, and his chest pulls uncomfortably. He sits up a little and looks around. He sees New York sleeping, a light blanket tossed over his shoulder. New Jersey, New Mexico, and Texas are nowhere to be seen, and Russia hears motion in the kitchen.

Russia sits up further and winces in anticipation, only to find that the wound on his hip only faintly ached. Though he doubts he could walk, Russia did relish in that he could sit up by himself. 

America whines. Russia looks down with concern. America pulls himself into Russia's lap and quiets. Russia smiles softly and brushes America's hair with his fingers. Russia feels full of happiness, and he couldn't think of anywhere else he would want to be.

New Jersey walks in quietly and sits back in the chair New Mexico had slept in and shushes the states walking in, pointing to New York. The way the states just nod and quietly walk away makes Russia's heart swell.

America turns and Russia looks down to see America looking back up at him.

"Hi," America mutters.

"Hello," Russia replies quietly.

"You're warm."

"You are too."

America hums before he closes his eyes and sinks into Russia's lap. Russia smiles.

"I feel sick," America says quietly.

"Is it your magic?" Russia asks.

"Probably. I just don't feel good."

Russia hums and rubs America's back. America smiles and giggles softly before closing his eyes again for a moment before open his eyes again and stares up at Russia with adoration, though it is muted by exhaustion. 

"Where is your hand?"

Russia chuckles and lifts his good hand for America to see. America grabs it and hugs Russia's hand to his chest. 

"And the other one?" America says.

Russia reluctantly gives America his injured hand. It takes America a few tries to successfully grasp Russia's palm. America pulls Russia's hand in gently and blearily looks at it.

"You're hurt."

Russia chuckles.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"...oh."

America looks away, and his guilty look pulls at Russia's heartstrings. 

"You make me so happy," America says, "and you got hurt."

Russia smiles and brushed America's cheek with his thumb.

"You're safe. The states are safe. That is all that matters," Russia says quietly.

"But I don't want you getting hurt for me."

"Why do you say it is your fault?"

"Because I could've been more careful. And maybe if I was better, then I would've gotten us out before you were tortured."

"This is not your fault."

America huffs, and Russia brushes his hair back. America blushes a little, and Russia smiles. America sighs and turns to face the rest of the room, curling up into a fetal position. Russia smiles and watches the states excitedly wave and whisper, pointing and taking glee in the fact that they are finally seeing America awake and reactive. 

Russia chuckles at their reactions, finding the kids cute in their enthusiasm.

California pouts.

"I'm not going to be the tallest anymore," California says with a pout.

"Cal, what the h*** are you even goin' on about?" Georgia asks, hand on her hip.

"Well, we obviously have to keep him," California says, pointing to Russia, "but that means that I won't be the tallest any more."

Georgia rolls her eyes with a laugh before she disappears down the hallway. California follows her, chattering away.

Russia stares down at America and soft, fluttery feelings fill his chest.

"I adore you," Russia says quietly.

America stiffens for a moment and pulls his blanket over his face. Russia laughs quietly and pulls the blanket down. 

"You look like a beet," Russia giggles.

America pouts and tries in vain to pull the blanket back over his face.

"Don't hide your face," Russia scolds playfully, "it's too nice."

America mutters something Russia doesn't understand.

Russia gently pulls the blanket out of America's hands and sees America pouting and bright red. Russia grins and America looks up at him when he does. America suddenly looks away and crosses his arms, his pout more pronounced.

"What's wrong?" Russia asks playfully.

"You can't smile at me like that," America mutters.

"Why not?" Russia teases.

"You're... you- You make me get all nervous and happy and give me butterflies and you can't be allowed to do that," America mumbles, his nose scrunched up.

Russia grins, and America determinedly looks away, trying to look angry. But a small smile grows on America's face and Russia can't help but giggle. 

"Don't laugh at me," America mutters with a yawn.

Russia yawns back in response and America snickers.

"Is Dad awake?" New York asks, rubbing his eyes with his fist.

"For now," America replies, "but I'm still exhausted."

"But are you okay?" New York pushes, getting up and sitting on the floor in front of America.

"I'll be fine. It might just take a while to get back to 100%," America replies with a caring smile. 

New York nods and sticks around for a few moments before taking off, calling for New Jersey. 

"Oh my God! You three are adorable!" Nigeria coos, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Georgia in her arms. 

She proudly walks through the living room as if to show off the three.

"You should have told me some of your children take after my people!" Nigeria exclaims, scolding America.

America shrugs.

Nigeria lets the children go and dotes on them dearly. The three look flustered, but they seem happy with the attention. 

America curls into Russia's lap and Russia smiles. Dixie walks in and offers Russia two plates before setting them on the table. He points to America and mouths, "make him eat."

Russia nods and thanks him. He shakes America awake.

"What?" America groans.

"You need to eat."

"But I wanna sleeeeep," America complains.

Russia sits America up. America groans and leans against Russia's shoulder, grumbling. Russia chuckles and experimentally picks up one of the plates with his injured hand. He finds that although his hand aches, he can still use it. Satisfaction hits him hard in the chest and he breathes a sigh of relief.

"This is yours," Russia says, handing it off, "and this is mine."

There isn't anything too substantial, just some canned fruit and stale crackers, but it's much better than nothing. 

"Eat."

"But Ruuuuuue..."

"Meeeeri," Russia mocks.

"Fine," America says with a pout.

America starts to eat some of it slowly before shoving the rest down his throat. Russia laughs.

"You are going to get sick," Russia teases.

"Well, I can do whatever I want, Ruski boy!" America proclaims.

Russia smirks. Then, America reaches out and confidently drops his plate on the floor. Russia falls back, laughing hard enough to hurt himself. America looks between the tabletop and the plate, a confused look on his face.

Russia stifles his laughter the best he can and tries to soothe the pain from the skin on his stomach.

"But I-? whatever," America says, throwing his arms in the air, "I'm going back to sleep."

America lays back down over Russia's legs with a dramatic sigh and Russia grins. 

'Cute. Very dramatic, but cute.'

'I can get used to this.'


	43. Why?

SItting back, relaxed, and occasionally falling asleep is how Russia spends most of the day. Whenever one of the states sees him awake, they give him another bottle of water to drink. Russia doesn't quite understand why and finds the frequent bathroom trips annoying, but his burns were more tolerable than they had been.

Russia starts drifting off when he feels someone grab his arm. He jolts up and his eyes fly open. He sees Califonia taking a startles step back and New York retracting his hand. He relaxes and chuckles.

"I told you he would jump," New York says.

California rolls her eyes before turning her attention back to Russia with a smile.

"We're just checking on you to see how well everything is healing," she explains with a cheery smile.

Russia pulls himself away from the couch to let her unwrap the bandages from around his torso. California hums and New York tsks.

"Looks like that healing magic helped keep the blistering pretty minimal," New York comments, "But you have to keep it covered-"

"And moisturized," California interjects.

"Yeah. And f***ing moisturized, for it to heal all the way," New York finished, scowling at California, who gives him a smirk in return.

Russia offers his hand and New York rips the bandages and flips his hand over a few times carefully before dropping it. The outer, visible sides have closed with scar tissue.

"Should be usable, and your hip should be the same," New York says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

California shoves New York's shoulder.

"Be nice!" California says.

New York scoffs and California laughs before walking away. New York rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. New York looks back down at Russia and America and his gaze softens. America sleeps on, completely unaware of his surroundings. 

New York sighs and his scowl falls to a neutral expression. Then New York makes quick eye contact and shoots Russia a tentative smile before turning away and walking out of the room.

Russia wants to sit back again, but the area around his burn is slimy and his hair still feels gross. He slowly stands up and America grumbles, trying to tug him back down to the couch. Russia laughs a little and pulls away.

America whines and cuddles with a pillow that Russia had been laying on. 

Russia smiles gently before slowly climbing his way up the stairs. Luckily, his hip allows him to get to the top before having to sit down. The wound throbs, but the pain doesn't last long. Russia breaths deeply to let the pain fade before walking into the bedroom. He eventually sits in the shower and tries to warm up the water.

Russia yelps when the hot water hits his skin and he rushes to turn the water cold. He shivers.

When Russia finally gets out and dressed, he makes it to the bed and cringes at the burns. The skin is stiff and cracks a little, weeping blood. Russia winces. 

Someone knocks on the door.

"Come in," Russia calls.

The door opens and America stumbles in with a bottle in his hand. America hastily closes the door and sways dangerously on his feet. Russia gets up quickly and catches America by his shoulders.

"Are you okay?" Russia asks.

"Yeah. 'm just tired," America mumbles, handing the bottle to Russia, who catches it easily.

"That's supposed to help with your burns," America says, pointing at the bottle before turning around, "I'm going to take a shower. See you in a few minutes."

Russia turns the bottle over in his hands before opening it. He applies it and carefully pulls a loose shirt over top. He lies down and yawns and leans into the pillows. America joins him soon after, climbing into the bed behind him.

Russia's eyes fall closed. 

The room is dark and calm. The soft whooshing of the fan fills his mind with a calm feeling

"Hey," America whispers from behind him.

Russia feels groggy and really doesn't want to talk. He doesn't respond and decides to pretend to be asleep.

"Russ?" America calls again.

His tone is different though. It sounds sad. Russia sighs.

"Yes?" Russia mumbles.

"Can I ask you a question?" America asks softly.

"Yes. What is it?" Russia asks, feeling a little annoyed.

"Well, umm... I- sorry. Forget I said anything. It doesn't matter," America stammers.

Russia relents and turns over. He sees America gripping onto the blankets and his face scrunched up like he was about to cry.

The expression tugs at Russia's heart. The annoyance leaves him and he lays his hands out, wanting to take America into his arms.

"It matters if it's bothering you," Russia says softly.

"Maybe you... I don't under- What do you see in me?" America stammers out, looking up with tears in his eyes and his hands move to start tugging at his hair.

Russia's thoughts come to a skidding stop.

"I'm just... nevermind. It's fine," America says, waving his hand and turning around.

"America?"

America turns and Russia feels his heart tear itself apart. 

America desperately tries to swipe away the tears streaming down his face, as if to hide them. Russia gently takes America's hands and pulls them away and America stares up, his cracked soul shining in his tear-filled eyes. 

"I'm fine," America says and looks away, his voice cracking. 

Russia looks on in concern.

"Nothing's wrong," America insists, forcing a wide smile that sends a pang through Russia's chest.

Russia leans over, planting a gentle kiss on America's forehead. America stares at him, sadness and fear in his eyes. Russia offers a small smile and rubs the backs of America's hands with his thumbs.

Russia opens his mouth to say something, but the look in America's eye makes his throat too dry to say anything. America chokes and pulls his hand away to cover his mouth. Russia feels helpless as sobs escape America, and Russia fights back the tears threatening to escape from his own eyes.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. Oh God. F***. I'm sorry," America rambles, backing away from Russia.

"Meri?" Russia asks quietly, reaching out for him.

America slinks away, looking shameful.

"I just don't get it, Rue. I don't! What do you see in me that's keeping you around? I don't have anything to give you, I can't make any trade deals with you until this mess is over... why are you... How could you love me if I have nothing to give you?" America says, his eyes filled with tears.

Russia makes a small whining noise from the back of his throat and horror knocks the breath out of him.

"What are you talking about?" Russia manages to whisper, his eyes wide.

"Well, I know I'm not good enough. But I haven't been able to do anything for you-"

"I was never expecting things from you, Stars," Russia says softly, and America peaks up, surprised.

"But I-"

"I am here for you," Russia insists, "not what you have."

America looks away and sniffles, his shoulders shaking. Russia offers an outstretched hand. America looks at it hesitantly before taking it in a tentative grip. Russia holds America's hand steady and America smiles and chuckles, a few tears streak down his face.

"Now that's hard to believe," America mutters with a sad smile.

"It's true."

"But why me? You could have anyone!"

"I pick you," Russia says, a small smile growing on his face. 

America looks away, a flustered smile on his face. The smile falls and America looks up, his eyes wide.

"But why?"

'Cute.'

'Sweet.'

'Self-sacrificing idiot.'

'Funny.'

Thoughts swirl through Russia's head. Russia goes quiet for a moment and America's face falls. Russia tries to sort through his thoughts, but he begins forcing them out as incomplete thoughts in a panic at seeing America's face.

"Fun. I like you here. You make me happy," Russia stammers out.

America stares at him, his eyes are as large as saucers and his mouth wide open. Russia stares back, nervous.

'Did I say the right thing?'

'Did I say enough?'

America lunges forward and tackles Russia. Russia grunts and tries to ignore the pain on his chest to hug America back as tight as he can. He wraps America up in a bearhug and America laughs quietly, settling a little.

"You give the best hugs," America mutters.

Russia hums and hugs America a little tighter, kissing his hairline. America sighs and his breathing slows. Russia looks down and sees America asleep, still wrapped around him. Russia smiles.

'Warm.'

His eyes drift closed.

\-------

He's falling. He's surrounded by darkness that seems to touch him. He screams.

"You think you can escape us?!"

Maniacal laughter fills the air.

"You countries aren't safe from us! We will find you and extract your secrets."

It doesn't feel right here. Russia feels lucid, but this feels wrong. He feels too awake, too aware. 

'go'

BANG

Russia springs awake and sees something slink out of sight from outside the window. He takes his breaths in shallow gasps, holding his head and staring out the window. Then a strange dark mass catches his attention toward the lower corner of the window.

Russia freezes for a moment and an eye blinks open from the shadows. Then it moves, and so do the curtains. Russia's eyes get huge and he blindly reaches for the lamp.

Light floods the room and he sees an anamorphic black blob staring at him from the floor. Russia curses and the thing shoots up from the ground and hits him, sticking to his face.


	44. Salt Lines

Russia shrieks and falls to the floor. It feels slimy and about 2 kg in weight, and it touching his skin burns, but he refused to let it get into his mouth or nose. It smells like old sewer water. He thrashes on the floor, and chaos engulfs the room. Noise surrounds and sinks his hands into the mass, wrestling it off his nose.

Russia heaves it off his face and launches it at the window. He heaves and coughs. He looks around to see Dixie and Finland standing over the creature, trying to trap it under a large, transparent bin. He shakes his hands, trying to get rid of the dark black stains on his fingers. 

Massachusetts runs in, with backward sweatpants and no shirt, holding a large container of salt to his chest. America is by his side in seconds.

"Holy s***! Are you okay?!" America rambles, pulling Russia's hands out and examining his face.

Russia catches movement from behind him and opens his mouth to shout. America spins around at his change in expression and smacks the blob away with the back of his hand. Then, America jumps to his feet and charges at Dixie, snatching the bin wordlessly and trapping the thing with a snarl.

The thing jumps up, trying to knock the bin off. America scowls and Russia slowly gets up to join him. Massachusetts beats him, shoving a bag of salt into America's hands. America waits for the thing to start to jump. He lifts the bin a little and slams it down, knocking the thing to the floor before quickly tossing it aside and covering it with salt.

The thing screams in an inhuman pitch and Russia ducks, covering his ears on instinct. Dixie bolts. Suddenly, it stops. Russia opens an eye and sees Louisiana standing nearby, and the thing surrounded by a sphere of purple magic.

America scowls and the thing rattles around in the sphere and the sphere begins cracking. Dixie runs in with an aluminum baseball bat. 

"Break."

Louisiana releases the magic and the block blobs hits the ceiling and bounces on the wall. Russia ducks as it soars over his head. 

It flees around the room and Dixie nails it with the bat. It shrieks and hits the wall before sliding down the wall. Louisiana resummons his shield and traps it again. The thing continues to hit the edges of the sphere, but doesn't have nearly enough energy to fight against it. 

Russia breathes heavily, trying to calm his heartbeat. America stands near Russia huffing before running to the door. He wrenches the door open and shouts in a voice that shakes the floorboards.

"EVERYONE! MAIN ROOM! NOW!"

Footsteps pound down the stairs and America turns back to the rest of the room.

"Lu, can you contain that?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine. You take care of P-Russia," Louisiana replies, quickly walking out.

Russia doesn't even register the mistake and staggers to his feet. America helps him up and fusses over him.

"Did it get in your mouth? Nose? Are you okay? Come on, we have to get that stuff off of you," America says, leading Russia into the bathroom.

Russia follows him easily and helps wash off his hands. America insists on taking a wet washcloth to scrub it off his face. After they get most of it off and America checks his injuries, America scoops him off the ground. Russia squeaks and his face grows warm, but he doesn't argue. America races down the stairs and then stands in front of the couch until some of the kids move over. America drops Russia into the pillows before taking his place in the front of the room.

'Meri looks pale.'

Louisiana walks in with the sphere, the thing inside bouncing around it as if trying to break it. America looks at her with a questioning look. Louisiana nods and flashes a thumbs up. America sighs before turning to address the rest of the room. Egypt sits up a little, very confused.

"America?" Egypt asks, sounding absolutely baffled.

"Oh. Hi Egypt, glad you're finally with us," America says with a welcoming smile, "the kiddos sitting around you are states and provinces of North America. You are currently in my country. I'll explain everything, I promise, but I have to make a few announcements first."

Egypt nods and rubs his head, wincing.

"I'm glad you are finally awake," Nigeria says happily, "I must tell you about Louis-"

"Now isn't the time, auntie," Louisiana says quietly.

Nigeria nods, and everyone's attention returns to America.

"We were attacked," America says, "something latched onto Russia's face."

"Is he okay?"

"Russia?"

"Wait, where is he?"

The states scramble around and try to find Russia and a few of them almost ran upstairs before Texas shouts.

"Y'all, he's right here!"

Russia finds himself at the center of their concern and feels a little flustered.

"Everything is okay," Russia says, trying his best to wave off the concern.

"Lu, let that thing outside please," America says, "and we'll see what it does."

Louisiana nods and walks through to the landing and Georgia opens the door. Louisiana tenses and releases the sphere. The thing shoots out the door and disappears into the dark. America sighs and his shoulders fall in relief. Georgia slams the door.

"How much salt do you have here?" America asks, his tone is exhausted.

"Enough," Dixie answers, "I've got almost 100 lbs. of it in storage. Why?"

"We... we need to line the doors and windows with it," America explains, his head falling.

Russia gets up and helps America stay upright. 

"I'll get that started, Amy. You can get back to bed," Dixie says, standing up.

America hums and leans on Russia before his head pops back up and he rubs his eyes.

"Oh. Egypt. Sorry. We got you out of the base," America says with a yawn, "we're staying here because the bases are in America and we needed somewhere to go to. But don't go to the feds, cuz some of them are... umm... they do it too."

Egypt nods and sits up a little more.

"Thank you. When can I go home?"

America doesn't answer, just staring off into space. Dixie sighs.

"We don't know yet," Dixie says, "sorry about him. We'll send you home as soon as possible."

Russia nudges America's shoulder and America grumbles, but his eye remains unfocused. 

Russia sighs and begins leading America to the stairs. America shakes his head and mutters soft apologies. Russia brings America up to the bed and America sits back on it, staring up at the ceiling. 

Russia sits down next to him and Connecticut wanders in and puts down a thick line of rock salt around the edges of the room and the windowsill.

"Just don't break the line," Connecticut says before walking out.

Russia sighs. He looks back at America, who stares blankly at the window.

"America, are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh. Sorry," America says softly, looking away.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothin'. Just spacing out."

Russia hums. America lays his head on Russia's shoulder.

"'m so tired," America mumbles.

"I am too," Russia agrees.

"...hey, wanna hear a joke?" America asks a sparkle of laughter in his tone.

"Okay."

"Why can't you hear a Pterodactyl go to the bathroom?"

"Uhm. Is this a spelling question?"

"Nooooo," America giggles.

"This is a spelling question. I don't know."

"Because they're all DEAD," America exclaims, throwing his hands.

Russia snorts and America falls back into hysterical giggling. Russia grins with him, finding America's joy contagious.

"That was not funny," Russia says bluntly.

"But you're smiling~" America teases, poking Russsia's cheek.

"I'm smiling at you. The joke doesn't make any sense."

"But if you read it, the p is silent!"

"Okay," Russia says in an accepting tone.

Really, Russia doesn't understand why America finds it so funny or even how the 'P' made it a joke. But America is having a good time, so he isn't going to interrupt him. Russia looks over and America looks up at him with a dopey smile. 

Russia feels his heart skip a beat and his face heats up. He covers his face and his smile gets wide enough to hurt his cheeks. His stomach flips upsidedown. America pulls Russia's hands down and giggles. Then America pulls up and kisses his eyebrows. 

Russia pulls away and the butterflies in his stomach flutter about more intensely. Laughter bubbles up and he chuckles.

"HEY! Don't laugh at me," America says, crossing his arms, "I'm trying my best."

"I know! I know," Russia says in between his giggling. 

America smiles brightly before his expression falls to a small smile. America leans his head back on Russia's shoulder. Russia smiles, and Russia leans his head on America's. 

"I'm so tired," America mumbles, "but I don't wanna sleep."

"You should."

"No! I don't wanna sleep if I'm gonna wake up and you're gonna be attacked on the ground."

Russia hums.

"I don't want to see you hurt," America whines. 

America hiccups. Russia reaches around his back and rubs America's arm.

"Like I know you can handle yourself. But..." America trails off.

"I know," Russia says quietly.

"God, I hope Dixie and Canada can handle the kids."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think I can. I love them so much. I love them all. But I can't do it right now. Just not right now. Is that wrong?"

Russia takes a moment to process it before responding.

"No. It's not wrong. Everyone needs a break," Russia says quietly.

America nods. Then America tucks his face into Russia's side. America leans his entire weight onto Russia. Russia adjusts to support him and America starts humming. The tune repeats, but Russia doesn't mind.

Russia tiredly watches out the window, waiting for the sun to rise.


	45. Overloaded

After a time leaning on each other, America begins fidgeting and bounces his leg. The bouncing gets more and more erratic, filling Russia with worry. Then, America pulls away violently. Russia jerks a little, startled. 

Russia reaches over and brushes America's shoulder with his fingers, and America jerks away. Russia retracts his hands and sits back, filled with confusion and anxiety.

"Are you okay?" Russia asks quietly under the noise of upstairs.

America whines and curls upon himself. Russia holds back from touching him.

"What's wrong?" Russia asks, feeling desperate.

America doesn't answer. Instead, he buries his head into his knees and covers his ears with his hands. Russia bites his lip and could practically hear the pleas of 'be quiet' in the air. Russia freezes a little.

'What's wrong?'

'What do I do?'

A few creaking footsteps echo above them.

Russia began to get up.

"No. Wait. Don't. Please."

Russia falls back, perturbed and frightened. Then, America whimpers and pulls at his hair. Russia hovers over him and feels stuck and powerless.

"Stars?" Russia asks, fear leaking into his tone.

America takes a heavy gasp and tears trace his cheeks.

"Please, just don't leave. Please. I don't wanna be alone," America begs quietly.

Russia sinks back into the bed and fidgets with his hat, feeling nervous and wanting desperately to help, but not knowing how. He waits and starts looking around the room, doing his best to deter himself from touching America, as much as he wanted to hug and comfort him.

The footsteps above them quiet and America curls up a little more. Russia's heart pounds in his chest. 

'What do I do?!'

America forcefully tears his socks and his shirt off and he hurls the cloth to the floor as if it burned.

"It's too much. It's all too much," America mutters.

America's fingers light up faintly but the magic sparks furiously before sputtering out with a pained gasp. Russia watches with wide eyes and bated breath. 

"Russ?"

His voice is so quiet and vulnerable and Russia feels his heart lodge itself in his throat. Russia's head whips up to look into America's eyes. America doesn't look at him.

"Can you get the grey blanket? ...please?" America asks quietly, his voice shaking.

Russia nods and hurries to his feet, nearly tripping in his haste to search for anything to make this better. There aren't any blankets matching the color on the bedroom floor and Russia wretches open the closet doors. 

He spots a crumpled grey pile of fabric in the back corner. Russia grabs it and heaves it up, the blanket much heavier than he had been expecting.

Russia gathers the cloth in his arms and brings it to the bed. He drops it beside America, who shakily takes it and wraps it around his shoulders, no issue with the weight. America shakes under it for a few minutes before he takes a few deep breaths.

The shaking recedes and America's breathing quiets.

"Are you..." Russia starts weakly, "Are you okay?"

America jerks his head from side to side, hunched over under the blanket. 

"What's wrong?" Russia asks carefully.

"...overstimulation," America mumbles, the syllables mixing together and making it almost unintelligible.

Russia nods, not understanding what it meant, but respectful.

"Be with me, but don't touch me right now," America pleads, his voice a little clearer, but still shaky.

"Okay," Russia replies quietly.

America and Russia sit quietly side by side until America changes his position, taking to lying chest-down on the bedding parallel to the headboard, the blanket draped on his back.

Russia tries his best to quell his apprehension, glancing at America every few minutes to check on him. 

"'m sorry," America says, sounding exhausted.

"Are you okay?" Russia asks tentatively.

"I will be," America says with a sigh, "I just got overwhelmed. I'm sorry, I think I freaked you out."

"It's alright."

America hums. They fall quiet and listen to the house settle.

"Is this going to happen again?" Russia asks carefully, worry in his voice.

"Yeah. It just kinda... happens every once in a while," America mumbles, looking away, "I'm sorry you had to see me like this."

"It's okay," Russia says hurriedly, "I'm worried, not angry."

"...really?" 

"Yes. I want to help you," Russia emphasizes.

America shifts slightly and stares up at Russia for a second before looking away. America fidgets with the corner of the blanket and sighs quietly.

"I'm just stressed. And when I'm stressed, my head goes into overdrive," America explains, waving a hand as if to add to his explanation, "and my brain just gets overloaded."

Russia hums in contemplation, wishing he had his phone to find more information, and maybe even find some way to help.

"Thank you for staying," America says quietly, looking away.

Russia pauses. The statement just strikes him as strange. A pang of sadness hits him in the chest.

'What else was I supposed to do?' 

"Meri?"

"Yeah?"

"How many people have left you like that?"

"Well... the kids don't see me like this. And no one else would care enough to help except maybe Dixie and Nada. Everyone else just tells me to 'cut it out, you bloody brat,' or something else along those lines, like I have much of a choice over any of it. Like, do you think I would choose this?!"

America sighs.

Russia cringes in sympathy. There is another pause and America slowly inches his way closer to Russia until they two are side by side. America crosses his arms in front of him and leans his head on them. Russia very cautiously lays his hand on America's hair.

"Is this good?" Russia asks softly, trying his best to be mindful.

America gives a small nod. Russia smiles and begins gently playing with America's hair, trying to calm himself down, staring out at the cresting sun over the horizon. 

They sit in silence as they hear the house come to life with motion. Footsteps and giggling and shouting about the coffee machine ring out from the main floor. America sighs, but had an affectionate smile growing on his face.

"Are you going to be alright?" Russia asks quietly.

"Yup," America chirps with a yawn, "I just need some caffeine and something to eat and I'll be fine."

A shrill scream cuts through the noise of the house. 

Russia and America make momentary eye contact before simultaneously jumping up and rushing downstairs.

"What's going on?!" America shouts, jumping down the last few stairs to the first floor.

Russia stumbles on the last few stairs and pointedly ignores the stinging of his skin and the pulling in his hip. He tries his best to catch up to America but ends up trailing just behind him.

"That thing!" Iowa screams, pointing out one of the side windows.

'Why isn't there any light coming through?' Russia wonders briefly.

He's about to get his answer. 

Russia nears the window and catches a glimpse of America's horrified look. He looks out for himself, and most of the color drains from his face.

Another black mass, just like the one in the bedroom.

Except, this one almost as large as the house. Russia freezes in place and the thing lurks outside, traversing the outer edges of the lawn. It seems to stalks the house in the few shadows that remain in the early morning sun.

"S***. That thing is huge," America mutters.

Then America growls and glares down at his hands.

"And my magic isn't back up to speed yet either. F***!" America hisses under his breath, clenching his hands into fists.

Russia puts a hand on America's shoulder. He hears shuffling behind him and raises his other hand, signaling them to stop.

"Wait," Russia orders.

"What?! WHY?" Dixie demands.

Russia turns around to address him and sees Dixie standing, shotgun in hand, with a group of about a dozen states behind him, all of them armed and snarling.

"If it has not attacked us, it might not," Russia explains, his mind racing but his tone sure, "We should not risk anything if it can't or won't hurt us right now."

America hums with uncertainty but doesn't object.

"Amy?" Dixie asks.

"I think we should wait," America says, "like Rue said. And maybe the salt lines worked."

Dixie grumbles angrily but calls off the states none the less. The states groan and move to sit around the living room, guns and knives still in hand.

Russia stares at the blob. Its movement is almost as mesmerizing as it is terrifying.

It rolls over itself, its mass moving almost like a condensed school of fish would, as if it was made of separate, slimy, black pieces, moving in unison. 

The slimy mass folds over itself, rolling over the frosty domain outside, coating whatever it touches with a dull grey slime. Its motion and the speed with which it crosses the front yard leaves Russia's head spinning. America grabs his shoulder and slowly pulls him away.

"Russia?"

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

Russia tears his eyes away and meets America's worried gaze.

"Yes. I'm fine."

"Okay. That's all fine and dandy, but why in the LORD'S NAME are we waiting here like sitting ducks?!" Dixie exclaims, throwing an arm in the air.

"We may not even be targets," Russia says firmly, "and going out there could end with someone getting hurt."

'...or worse.'

"Well, I want to fight it," Finland chimes in, machine gun under her arm.

"We shouldn't provoke it if we don't have to," Canada argues.

"IT'S AS BIG AS THE HOUSE!" Texas shouts, gesturing wildly to the window.

"We cannot be stuck here!" Brazil exclaims, her hands in her hair, "my states are still out there, and some of them are still missing!"

"LISTEN!" America snaps.

Everyone falls quiet.

"I can't fight right now," America says, pointing to himself, "and I am not allowing any of my kids out there if I can't be with them. And no one else should be going without back up, okay?! Right now, we're going to hang tight. We will fight as a last resort."

America stares around for any objections, but no one speaks up. America lets out a shaky sigh and rubs his face. Then, America begins walking around the house, checking the locks on windows. Oregon and a reluctant Wyoming run around to help make sure all of them are secure. Russia turns his gaze back outside and sees the thing closer now.

"Well, at least the windows are hurricane-proof," Dixie grumbles, his arms crossed.


	46. The Ringing

The monster stalks closer to the building, rolling over the grass and leaving a greasy path behind it.

"It's like a giant, gross slug," America comments.

The thing keeps getting closer to the house ominously. It emanates a strange gurgling. The ground rumbled as it slithered over the grass. Soon, it looms over the first windows.

'And the second story windows,' Russia assumes.

Russia backs up, hunching over into a defensive stance. He holds out an arm to herd the kids and America away from the windows. He glares out the window, masking his fear as best as he can.

He tries to see anything out the window other than the blob and he notices the shape flattening against the glass.

'S***.'

He ignores the sore spots on his hip and the pulling across his chest as he readies himself to fight. He snarls, baring his teeth. He clenches his hands into fists, ignoring the stinging it causes, and scans the windows, watching for breaks. 

'I will not let anything hurt the states.'

America walks up beside him and takes on an offensive stance, knees bent, and eyes narrow. There is a shout upstairs, but before Russia or America can react, a loud CRACK takes over his thoughts.

Russia's head whips from the stairs back to the windows. he scans them and sees the window he had been standing at not stands with a huge crack. The fissure starts at the top of the frame and creeps down, growing as it does.

Russia's mind races and his eyes grow wide.

'What do we do? What do we do?!'

He looks to America, whose eyes light up with an idea.

"Georgia! Get the biggest plastic bin you can, now! York, get the salt. Lousiana and Mass, magic the plastic and make sure it won't break. Del, make sure the inside is completely coated in salt. The thing didn't like salt before, so it definitely won't like it now. Let's GO!" America orders, clapping his hands to punctuate his demands, his voice ringing out over the panicked talking and shouts of the states.

The states scramble over each other in a panic to follow the directiong. 

The window screeches as the cracked glass rubs against itself. The window bends inward, and Russia holds his breath. The crack spreads from just going down to completely spreading across the pane, looking almost like a spiderweb.

"STAND BACK!" America demands, causing the remaining kids and countries in the room to scramble to the back wall. 

Massachusetts rockets into the room with a glowing transparent box, leaving a trail of salt.

"DAD!" Massachusetts shouts, throwing the bin.

The plastic soars over the heads of those in the room and America spins around and, with a practiced motion, catches it and covers the window with it.

"Russ, help me," America tells him.

Russia doesn't need to be told twice. He braces his weight against the plastic bottom. He can sense the magic radiating off of it, and leaning against it makes him feel the static of the conflicting magic swirling around it.

"Flo!" America shouts.

Florida sprints forward and, with something Russia doesn't recognize, goes around the edges as if to seal the bin's edges to the wall.

America nods before directing Florida back to the group with an exaggerated head nod. 

At first, Florida doesn't respond.

"Flo, get your a** back here, now!" Delaware shouts, having taken charge of the states.

Florida scrambles back and America glares at the window. Russia hears it crackling and readies himself, bracing himself and planting his feet onto the wood floors.

CRASH

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLATTER

The window shatters and its pieces fly. The glass tears against the bars on the window and is immediately forced back to the back of the container by the thing filtering through the window's cage and pressing into the house through the newfound opening.

There is running upstairs and screaming, but Russia doesn't pay them much attention, putting all his effort into keeping this thing out. It bangs against the plastic, and the bin bends. Russia uses his shoulder to fight against its weight. He groans and the thing surges forward.

He can hear muffled sizzling as it touches the salt, and can see its skin begin to bubble at the contact. A deafening screech rings out from outside, but Russia ignores it. He closes his eyes and strains, afraid that if he loses his footing, even for a moment, he would be shot back into the group of states.

Russia clenches his teeth, his hip throbbing.

'I will not die today,' Russia decides, 'I have people to protect.'

With a surge of determination, he rams his weight into the bottom of the bin, forcing it back, if only slightly.

"DIXIE!!!" Someone shouts from upstairs, their voice cracking and full of pure, unadulterated panic.

Then automatic gunfire and the shriek surges in intensity. Russia's ears ring.

"Help!" California shouts from the second floor, "YORK!"

New York leaps over the back of the couch and bounds up the stairs the way a large cat would. After a moment, New York and California come rushing back down the stairs with an unconscious Dixie slumped over their shoulders. Russia can hear Texas shouting upstairs and Brazil disappears from view shortly after. 

Russia doesn't have time to think about the potential consequences when the force against the barrier doubles in force and Russia shouts. America braces it with his shoulder and his hand, forcing it to stay in place, his eyes screwed shut and a grimace marred on his face. Russia snarls at the pain and desperation on America's face and forces the mass back.

"YES! BACK WITH YOU, YOU_____!" Brazil cheers from somewhere upstairs.

The shrieking swells before suddenly, the ringing overtakes it. The incessant ringing drowns out any other noises around Russia. Something warm drips from his ears and down his face. He ignores it. 

Russia scans the room for any other danger and sees New York and California trying their best to get Dixie to be responsive, but their attempts haven't been successful in doing anything but make Dixie thrash under them, his mouth open. That's when Russia realized that he can't hear anything. He mutely watches Dixie scream in a daze.

Suddenly, the bin bends underneath Russia's weight and he stumbles. He looks out only to see the creature recoiling. He leans on his hands, now pressed against the back of the container, and watches cautiously. 

Water pours from somewhere above and the thing stretches up, but it seemed less massive than it had before. Then, it shivers and seems to recoils. He can see pieces of it flying off, and the telltale holes of gunfire quickly growing in number across its surface. Another bucket full of water hits it and it folds in on itself. 

It then suddenly shoots toward the broken window. Russia can feel himself scream, but the ringing drowns out even his own voice.

America rams his shoulder against the bin and the thing slams into it with enough force to set off a car alarm. Russia grits his teeth and pushes back. His legs shake and the injury in his hip feels like it's tearing itself apart, but he refuses to let that be the reason that he would fall back. His chest and stomach burn.

Then someone runs up beside him. To his left, he sees Wyoming pushing against it, and other states swarm them, trying to help keep the seal intact. As soon as he no longer has to push on it, he slumps against it, heaving and shaking.

New Jersey pulls him from the crowd and he stumbles, unable to convince his leg to cooperate. Then he sees flashes of movement on the stairs as Finland sprints toward the front door with Texas on her tail, both with guns swinging in their hands as they run. They burst out the front door and open fire. 

Alabama, Mississippi, Kentucky, the Carolinas, and New Hampshire rush out to follow, grabbing any firearm they can get their hands on before sprinting out the door. They fan out and fill the creature with lead. 

Motion catches Russia's eye and he turns to see Brazil dumping water over Dixie. Dixie springs up as if having just woken up from a nightmare. His eyes are wide and frantically scanning the room. Then, he sees Dixie turn to Brazil and start speaking at a rapid pace, but Russia couldn't be sure if he was saying anything at all. 

Russia turns back and sees America stumbling over to the gun safe as if to follow Finland outside. He struggles to his feet and staggers over. He grabs America by the arm and draws America back. America weakly tries to pull away, but Russia manages to keep him from arming himself.

America tries to stand a little straighter, as if to tell Russia to stop, only to sway dangerously, his eyes unfocused. Russia watches, knowing he is unable to help, dread in his throat. 

But when America falls backward, it isn't to the ground. 

Russia looks up to see Canada holding America upright, having hooked him under the arms. Canada hoists America up and drags him one of the completed cots the provinces are setting up in the living room. Ontario takes Russia's wrist and sits him down on one of the adjacent cots in the room.

Ohio tries to ask him questions, but the combination of lip-reading and English words make it impossible to understand. The look of confusion must have been obvious because Ohio soon gives up, frustration and worry on his face. Then, Russia is guided to lay down and obliges, turning his head to see America asleep. He looks back up and a flurry of movement surrounds him, making his head spin. 

But still, all he can hear is that horrible ringing.


	47. Loss

Russia sits up again once the stinging of his burn lessens a little and he sees that most of the states are scrambling to help with DIxie or trying to fix the window. He distractedly wipes away at his cheek, but when he pulls away, he sees his fingers stained with red.

Russia's heart stops.

'Blood?!'

He looks around panicked, trying to talk, but he can't gauge his volume anymore, or even his accent. Even then, his tone seems to grab New York's attention. New York walks over, a little annoyed. Russia waves his bloody fingertips in a panic and waves to his ears.

New York's eyes widen almost comically before he lunges at Russia, pulling at Russia's ears. After looking at them, New York runs over to America to do the same thing to him. Russia's heart races in his chest.

'Is America okay?'

Russia tries to stand, but someone pushes him back down. He jumps at the contact. He spins around to see Michigan giving him a startled and apologetic look. Michigan says something, but Russia couldn't understand. Russia furrows his brow and Michigan gets an alarmed look on his face before running up to California, who is hovering over Dixie.

California and Michigan talk. Michigan looks frantic, waving to Russia. California soon saunters over and asks him something. Russia tries his best to say he doesn't understand, but he must have said it far too loudly with how California stumbles back a little.

Russia looks away, his face flush. He rubs the back of his neck, flustered and embarrassed. Then, a familiar pad of paper is shoved under his nose. He looks up to see New York staring at him expectantly, arm outstretched. Russia takes it and reads the scrawled writing across the top. 

At least, he tries to. 

The handwriting is sharp, but all the letters connect, making it nearly completely illegible. 

Then someone snatches it out from under him. New Hamshire seems to be scolding New York, writing on the paper before handing it back.

In swirling, even lettering, the question of "Can you hear any of us?" is written for him.

Russia takes the pen.

"No," he writes before handing it back. 

New Hampshire writes again.

"What can you hear?"

Russia scrunched his face, trying to remember the English words to describe the high pitched noise filling his head.

Ultimately, he settles on the word "Ringing."

New Hampshire nods, telling New York something, before turning back to Russia with a gentle smile. She scribbles something down and flips the paper back around.

"It will be okay," the paper reads, "York will find an ASL book for you. That should help."

Russia nods in acknowledgment and Something cold and wet touches his face. He spings around, feeling a yelp escape his throat. He sees Tennessee jerk a little at his reaction and falls off the back of the cot, some kind of wet cloth in her hand. Russia laughs. He reaches out, offering his hand, and Tennessee takes it.

Russia pulls her up, and she regains her footing quickly. She opens her mouth as if to say something, only to close it and sheepishly wave the cloth for Russia to see, a small and faded smear of red already staining the white.

Russia smiles and tries to calm his heart rate. He gives a nod, and Tennessee retreats back into his peripheral vision, quickly wiping off the blood from his face.

Russia sighs. The fact that he can't hear anyone's footsteps anymore makes him nervous, and whenever someone walks into his field of vision, he holds back from jumping.

Motion by the front door catches his attention. His eyes shoot up to see Finland walking in with a gaggle of states following behind her. Then, a heavy book is dropped into his lap. He looks over to see New Jersey giving him a mischievous grin. He looks down at the book: on the front, it's simply labeled "ASL" in big, bold letters.

He begins flipping through the pages, questions on the tip of his tongue that he knew couldn't be answered without it. But it's confusing. The sentence structure is unlike English but is different enough from Russian that he's left staring at it.

Ultimately, Russia decides to begin reading and practicing the alphabet, trying to distract himself from the implications of the ringing. He passively allows California to check him for injured and treat his, now bleeding, burns, but his focus remains on the book's pages. He begins trying to sigh out the letters. The movements feel natural. Then, he sees someone sit down in front of him. 

Russia looks up and sees Delaware sitting on the floor in front of him, looking up with a friendly smile. 

"(H-I)" Delaware signs slowly, allowing Russia to identify the letters.

Russia returns them. And his intense lessons begin.

Russia begins practicing the alphabet and Delaware responds with short phrases. Soon, they move on to whole words and phrases. Soon, the textbook is mostly left forgotten as Russia tries his hardest to memorize the small words, like 'hi', 'fingerspell', 'again', 'monster', 'outside', 'day', 'night', and everything in between. 

Soon, with a familiar feeling with the words, Russia begins to ask as many questions as he can. And though Delaware would occasionally correct him, signing the questions back with changes in the order, and having Russia repeat them before answering them, Russia was finally able to understand at least some of what is going on around him.

Dixie was the one to open the window and was immediately pinned to the wall before he could attack the creature. Texas began shooting at it and California ran for help. The creature had escaped into the surrounding landscaping after it had been shot to pieces. 

Eventually, Delaware gets up to help attend to his siblings and Russia pulls his legs up onto the cot and crosses them, making himself comfortable. He heaves the book into his lap and tries to cram as much of it as he can, practicing signs he deems useful.

'I know more American Sign Language than Russian.'

It's a strange thought, but not unfounded. Russia had never learned very much Russian sign language apart from 'hello'. He had never needed to.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and he jolts, his attention torn away from the book. He looks up to see Virginia offering a plate with some fruit, cheese, and crackers. Where it had come from, Russia isn't sure, but he is grateful none the less. 

He spends the rest of his afternoon practicing the signs, and some of the states even sit with him to help him practice. Maine teaches him every curse under the sun, and California teaches him different phrases for the bedroom, though he had, very red faces, told her to leave once she spelled out the first one.

A sudden motion to his left catches his attention, and he sees America bolt upright, frantically searching the room. America's eye meets Russia's and America relaxes before scrambling over, half crawling to meet him. America begins rambling, and Russia feels like he swallowed a rock when he asks America to stop.

America stares at him in confusion for a second before signing back.

"(Why? Are you okay?)" the movements are quick and panicked, but each movement is exaggerated and wide, "(When did you learn ASL?)"

"(I can't hear,)" Russia tries to sign. When he sees America's confused look, he flips the book back open and corrects himself.

America's eyes go wide with panic.

"(________ know?)" America signs, though Russia doesn't understand most of the words, "(_______ help you?)"

Russia nods.

"(D-E-L helps,)" Russia replies.

America nods, but Russia notices that his expression seemed off. Then, meeting America's eye, he sees tears welling. Before Russia can react, America clings to him, shaking. Russia hugs him right back and feels his eyes begin to burn. He tries to hold back the emotions that surge through his chest.

'Am I going to be able to hear anything again?'

The question echos in his mind and the realization of 'I don't know' finally sets in. 

America had been his reality check, and Russia finds the reality of the situation unbearable. Russia buries his face into America's shoulder and holds America like a lifeline. His chest shakes with the sobs he tries to hold back. Tears trek down his face and he bits his lip.

America begins rubbing circles on his back and Russia feels the floodgates break. Sobs wrack his body and he feels the snot and tears running down his face. America doesn't seem to care. 

America's chest vibrates lightly as if he's speaking, and Russia is hit with another wall of grief.

'Am I going to be able to hear America again? Or my family? How am I supposed to save Ukraine like this?'

Eventually, his tears run dry, though not for lack of emotions. Russia is left completely spent and he clings to America for a while, though he doesn't notice time pass, desperate for comfort. America doesn't pull away. Just holds him. 

Russia leans against him, trusting him to fight off anything that might decide to walk up behind them.

Drowsiness fills Russia's mind with fuzz, and the warmth around him lulls him into a fitful sleep.


	48. Passing Notes

When Russia wakes up again, he finds himself still in America's arms. He relaxes, trying his best to ignore the incessant ringing. He looks around a little more and realizes that he had been put on the couch, and America sits behind him, holding him up.

Russia feels America's steady breathing and realizes that he must be asleep. He looks down and finds the book at his feet. He swallows.

'I need to learn.'

Russia sits up, and America tries to tiredly pull him back. Russia grabs the book and lies back down, curling up his legs a little to prop the book against them. He continues to try to read through all the phrases and anything he might need when one of the signs catches his eye.

"Sorry-" the page reads. Next to it is a diagram of someone rubbing their fist in circles on their chest.

The sign looks familiar. 

Russia looks up absentmindedly and notices several other people in the room, either playing games or talking. And maybe he was imagining it, but he could almost hear the buzz in the room.

Delaware spots him and signs a quick "(Hello)."

Russia smiles.

"(Hello,)" Russia signs back, trying his best to mimic the action.

"(Good!)" Delaware signs happily, walking closer, "(Do you need help?)"

Russia shakes his head, and reluctantly signs "(No,)" at Delaware's expectant look.

Delaware smiles.

"(Let me know if you want to practice,)" Delaware signs.

Then, Del turns back to his siblings, talking.

'What is he saying?' Russia wonders, but that train of thought becomes too painful to continue down.

The ringing had become less painful, which is good. His burns had also begun to scar over. He winces. 

'Itchy.'

He tries his best not to irritate the skin further and instead puts his focus back onto the people mingling in the room. 

'Wait, can Meri still hear?'

Russia's eyes go wide.

He raises a hand and waves it briefly, grabbing Dixie's attention. 

'I was hoping for Delaware.'

Dixie walks over, his expression is mostly neutral.

"(What is it?)" Dixie asks, looking a little annoyed.

"(I know I can't hear,)" Russia starts, "(Can M-E-R-I hear?)"

Dixie's expression visibly softens. Then he signs something Russia doesn't recognize. At his bewildered expression, Dixie seems to scoff.

"(Yes. He can hear. I think_______________________,)" Dixie signs. 

The last gestures hold no meaning to Russia, though Dixie doesn't seem keen on elaborating. Dixie gives him one last contemplative look before turning away and disappearing into the dining room.

Russia briefly wonders what he's thinking about, but shakes off the thought, deciding that it probably doesn't matter anyway. He returns his eyes to the book pages but finds he can't focus on it for long, his head whipping up at every sudden movement that appears in his field of view. 

The states seem to notice too. Many of them seem to whip toward him when his head pops up. Russia sighs but a pang hits his chest when he can't hear it. Then he feels America stir. America pokes his shoulder. Russia turns to see him look back, exhausted.

"(Go to the bedroom?)" America signs sloppily. 

Russia nods and slowly stands. He feels the need to run, to get away. Sure, the noise isn't bothering, but the constant walking and movement had gotten overwhelming.

But standing at the doorway into the bedroom, Russia feels anxiety fills his core and he winces. He reaches forward with a shaky hand and slowly turns the doorknob. He tries to swallow back the fear and throws the door open. 

The room is still and dark, save the dull daylight outside.

Russia walks in and watches America close the door in his peripheral vision. Russia throws back curtains and wretches open doors, impulsively checking everywhere in case something else is waiting for them in here.

His chest gets tight as he throws the curtains back again, frantically scanning the area around the window.

Someone grabs his hand. 

Russia whips around to see America giving him a tired, sad-looking smile. America slowly pulls him over to the bed and Russia tries to pull away, staring around the window frame.

'I have to make sure we're safe here.'

America tugs him onto the bed with a puppy-eyed look. Russia relents. As soon as he's sitting down, America lets him go and grabs a small journal and a pencil, scribbling something into it.

"You're shaking," the note says, "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Russia looks down at his hands, only to realize that he's shaking as if he was out in the snow. He tries to breathe in deeper but finds himself gasping. He reaches out and takes the pencil and journal. 

"I am afraid," He scribbles out, trying to get his hands to cooperate. 

America seems to chuckle and try to say something before stopping himself, and writing.

\--NOTE--

"It looks like it. Is it better in here?"

"I don't know."

"I was getting overwhelmed downstairs and you looked pretty jumpy. I thought this would be better. Besides, there is nothing in here."

\---

Russia doesn't write a response. America reaches out and gently Russia's hand and absentmindedly traces the scars. Russia shivers.

His mind slowly stops spinning. A headache takes the place of the whirlwind of thoughts, He grimaces for a moment before relaxing his features.

America sits in front of him calmly, even as Russia moved to have his back against the backboard. Though America's movements don't still for a moment, they become less obtrusive, as if he was trying to hold back. 

Russia feels his heart swell. Then, he uses his free hand to prop up the journal against some of the folds in the blankets and begins drawing. America watches him curiously. 

Russia begins drawing out America's features, trying his best to relax, even just a little. America sits up a little more and tries to peak over the top of the book. 

Russia blocks him playfully and America pouts, falling back a little. Russia feels himself chuckle.

Russia just continues drawing, and America smiles listlessly. Russia finally feels the tension in his shoulders begin to leak away. He squeezes America's hand and America's shoulders shake a little. Russia glances up and sees him shaking a little and giggling. Russia smiles a little and a bitter-sweet feeling gathering the back of his throat.

'What I wouldn't do to hear you again.'

Russia looks away and feels his heart sink.

'Just another thing to miss.'

Then he sees someone snapping in front of his face. He looks up to see America offering a concerned smile. 

"(Are you okay?)" America signs.

Russia looks away. America puts his hand under Russia's chin and tilts up Russia's head. Russia stares up, be avoids America's eyes. America seems to sigh before pulling his hands away and begins signing.

"(This isn't _____. Your hearing ______,)" America signs.

Russia stares at him, and feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He snarls and glares a hole into the wall beside the bed. 

'I don't need another reminder.'

America flinches and Russia's face falls. He brings his hand up to his chest. 

"(Sorry.)"

America gives him a sympathetic look. Russia returns his eyes to his picture and sadly continues adding small lines. America stands up and digs around in a side drawer, reaching through the clutter pulling out a sticky note pad and pen. America scrawls a message and sticks it to the bed in front of him. Russia struggles to bring himself to read it. But when he does, his eyes go wide.

"Your hearing with heal. It'll be okay. It'll take a while, and it won't be the same as before, so ASL will still be useful, but don't stress yourself out about it," the note says.

Russia stares at America in surprise.

"(I will hear again,)" Russia signs, starstruck.

America seems to laugh and signs back an enthusiastic ("Yes!")

Then America goes back to his notes.

"I would've tried to heal you, but my magic is shot rn," he writes in his swirling handwriting.

Russia reads it and he looks up to sees America beaming. 

Russia lunges forward and grabs America into a tight hug, tears in his eyes. Gleeful, relieved laughter bubbles up and he feels it explode upward. He fell into America and they drop down onto the blankets. America hugs him so tight. 

'I'm going to be okay.'

Russia tries not to think about the implications of it not being the same, and just relishes in the belief that this isn't permanent. 

America shakes with laughter and sits up. He does something over Rusia's shoulder before giving Russia another note.

"The ringing probably won't go away, but it'll get better," the note says.

A bit of disappointment ebbs at Russia, but he pushes it back.

'It won't be the same, but hearing anything other than this ringing would be good.'

Russia offers America a broad grin. America starts smiling back when suddenly, America's face changes from happy to alarmed, and he whips around to face the door. 

America hops up, wide-eyed, and waves for Russia to follow.

'Uh oh.'


	49. Tremors

Russia races out the door, following closely behind America. America seems frantic, and anxiety floods Russia's system. He can feel his heartbeat behind his eyes and his breathing gets heavy. They make it downstairs to see a huge group of kids surrounding something.

Russia's ears begin to throb, but he ignores it the best he can. America pushes past the kids, and Russia finds it somewhat amusing as even the tallest of his brood would part ways once they saw him coming. 

Russia peaks over the heads of most of the crowd to see Dixie wrestling with Egypt. Both seem really aggravated. America raises his hands and opens his mouth with a scowl. Russia flinches at the pain that shoots through his skull.

The states fan out and America looks to Canada and Russia for help. Russia nods and walks forward, and Canada approaches from his left. Russia and America grab Dixie and tug him away. Dixie thrashes, and Russia finds himself begin shaking, feeling as if someone is taking a sledgehammer to the sides of his head. 

Canada pulls Egypt back and Egypt stands, brushing himself off with a scowl. 

Dixie continues to try to pull away, and the pain in Russia's head gets unbearable. Russia hurriedly shoves Dixie's weight into America. America stumbles a little, but the sudden movement seemed to snap Dixie out of whatever rage he had gotten himself into. Though Russia didn't plan to stick around long enough to watch the outcome.

Russia shrinks back from the room and backs into the kitchen. He stumbles and his back hits the kitchen cabinets. He falls to the ground and curls up, his shuddering hands moving to cover his ears. 

Suddenly, he feels a breeze from motion in front of him. His eyes fly open and he looks up to see America kneeling in front of him, looking concerned. 

"(Do you need help?)"

Russia tucks his face into his knees and tries not to cry. Then he feels another set of hands cover his own. Russia looks up a little to see America giving him a comforting look. The throbbing lessens a little and Russia blinks away his tears. 

America looks over his shoulder and says something. Then America turns back to Russia with a gentle smile, but his eyes shine with distress. Russia stares up at him, hoping his questions would translate through his expression. 

'What's going on?' 

'What's happening to me?'

'Is everyone okay?'

America nods and slowly removes his hands before quickly signing.

"(It's okay. No problems. Everything is okay now.)"

Russia gives a small nod.

Then America looks up, at first looking alarmed. Then his expression turns furious. America gives Russia one last small smile before swiftly whipping around and stomping out of the room, radiating rage and few bright blue sparks around his hands. 

Russia is left sitting on the kitchen floor, shaking. 

'Why is this happening?' Russia thinks desperately, clamping his hands to the sides of his head, trying to drown out the now overwhelming ringing noise.

Russia takes a gasping breath and holds it, trying to keep himself from crying out in agony.

It momentarily gets worse and he grits his teeth, hoping to whatever deity there may be that he isn't whimpering. 

The tile is cold against his feet. 

Motion catches his attention and he winces, poking his head up to see Dixie and America furiously signing at each other. Dixie seemed angry, but America seemed even more so, occasionally aggressively pointing back at Russia. Russia looks away, hoping that America isn't angry with him.

Then America begins to monopolize the conversation, and Dixie's eyes go wide, the rage falling from his face. Russia catches a few words like "(no)" and "(quiet)," but nothing more, and the rest of the conversation continues too fast for him to follow.

Soon Dixie walks toward the door with a forlorn look, stopping in the doorway. He seems to start to apologize when America just shakes his head and shoos him out. Dixie gives a dejected nod before catching Russia's eye.

But, instead of scowling as Russia had expected, Dixie's eyes soften and he signs a quick, "(I'm sorry,)" before walking out.

Russia really didn't have the energy to think about what that could've meant, instead, he just tucks his head back into his knees. 

Then someone gently shakes his shoulder. Russia looks up to see America looking at him with a tender smile. Russia gives him a desperate and pained look and America's smile falls a little.

"(____________________upstairs?)" America signs.

Russia can only stare, trembling.

Then, America reaches out, and instead of covering his hands again, America picks him up. 

America wraps one arm behind his back and the other under his legs and lifts him up with little trouble. Russia feels his face grow hot but ignores it, not wanting to take his hands off and fight for autonomy.

Russia tucks his face into America's chest and tucks his elbows into his chest, trying his best to ignore the dizzying movement around him. 

America ascends the stairs quickly and enters the bedroom.

America very slowly eases Russia down near the foot of the bed and parallel to the headboard. Russia curls up into the blankets. America gently grabs Russia's shoulder. Russia opens an eye in confusion and America begins signing slowly.

"(I will be back. I have to talk with the kids.)"

Russia nods stiffly.

America walks to the door, and glances back over his shoulder before leaving, closing the door slowly. 

Russia stares at the wall. His head throbs and the world spins like he had sat down after spinning in circles. 

Fortunately, the throbbing and disorientation soon begin to fade, and the ringing had gone back to normal. 

Still, Russia keeps his hands over his ears, not wanting to risk going through that pain again.

He pulls his legs up, curling into a fetal position. He shivers and feels his arms begin to cramp up. 

Russia curls tighter with a violent jerk when someone brushes his shoulder. Russia looks up cautiously and sees America leaning over him, looking concerned. Russia looks away. 

America gently takes hold of his wrists and slowly begins pulling Russia's hands away, and Russia fights against him for a moment before relenting. 

'Please make sure this doesn't hurt.'

'Please...'

America brings his hands out in front of him. The ringing doesn't change, and Russia tries to quell his trembling.

Russia brings his fists to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut. America runs his hand through Russia's hair, brushing it out of the way and kissing Russia's temple. Then he backs up and kneels on the floor beside the bed. Russia opens his eyes, feeling the weight on the bed shift.

"(I'm sorry,)" America signs, his face showing regret and worry, "(I didn't know _________ hurt you.)"

"(It's okay,)" Russia signs shakily, forcing a smile.

America gives a sad look, and leans over and lays his head on his arms, tilting his head to face Russia. Russia finds himself getting lost in America's eye, admiring the colors and the light yellow glow. He relaxes into the blankets. He reaches out and brushes his fingers against America's cheek.

'Soft.'

America relaxes and closes his eyes. Russia smiles.


	50. Magic

Here is a quick doodle of what Dixie looks like. Now back to the story.

Russia lies back and just breathes, relaxing into the bedding. His cheek rubs against the blankets and he smiles softly. He gently rubs America's cheek with his thumb.

Then America begins moving a little. Russia looks up and watches out of curiosity.

America crawls up onto the bed and spins around almost like a dog, his hands and knees sinking into the duvet. America seems to laugh a little before he falls to the bed, sending the blankets up around him, and wind brushes against Russia's face. Russia frowns a little in jest and turns onto his stomach with a chuckle. 

America looks over, and their eyes meet. Russia finds himself beaming, and his cheeks growing warm. He looks away quickly with butterflies fill his stomach, and a giddy rush of feelings floods his mind. 

Russia feels the mattress shift a little more from movement and suddenly feels America lying across his back. Russia can feel America's face and chest tucked into his back and America's arms draped over his shoulders. Russia sinks further into the glee that fills his chest with warm, fuzzy emotions.

America tangles his legs into Russia's and Russia feels himself giggle. It was surreal. He feels like he's flying, and his heart hammers in his chest. Russia squirms a little and America sits up. Russia smirks and wraps his arms around America's waist.

'He feels so warm.'

Russia pulls America toward him, and when America shuffles closer to him, Russia smiles in success. Then, he pulls America down beside him. Looking him up and down, Russia nuzzles into America's side where his skin is exposed. America begins to shake with what Russia assumes is laughter and he pulls back a little. He looks up to see America breathless, his face bright red, and his mouth opened in glee.

A pang of sadness hits him, and the giddy happiness leaks away.

'I wish I could hear him.'

America begins to pull away from him, and Russia watches lazily, a tired fog in his mind, as America retrieves some paper and a pen from his desk.

Russia closes his eyes when he sees America begin writing. He only opens them again when America taps his shoulder. Russia props himself up on his arms, looking at America with a curious gaze.

America slides the sheet under his nose, and Russia looks down to read it.

"So, you have to promise not to tell Dix or Mass, but I'm going to try to heal you. I might pass out, but you'll have to tell them I'm taking a nap," it read, the script swirling and written in light blue ink.

'Pass out?'

'No, I can't have him do that.'

Russia shakes his head and hands the paper back to America. America glares a little before taking the sheet back and hands it back, a new message written on it. 

"Don't you want to hear again?"

Russia stares for a second. He feels his heart skip a beat.

'I could hear again...'

'But America is magically exhausted. I don't want him risking his well-being.'

Russia writes his response on the sheet, and the two hand it back and forth. 

"I want to. But what about your magic?"

"I'll be fine."

"But you are tired. Is this a good idea?"

"I'll be fine. Besides, I want to help you, and the sooner I do that, the better."

Russia stares back down at it, pondering his options. The paper crumples a little under his grip and he sits up a little more. He pushes himself onto his knees, rereading the writing.

"(Are you sure?)" Russia signs.

America gives a decisive nod in response before holding his hand out for the now crumpled paper. Russia hands it over easily and America scrawls out a message before passing it back.

"I want to help you," the paper reads, "I know what I'm doing. Just trust me."

"I trust you to help me," Russia writes back, "but I don't want you to hurt yourself doing this."

"But I want to help you, and what if I do get hurt? It doesn't matter much anyway."

Russia's eyes go wide in panic.

"NO! It does matter!" he writes as big as he can manage on the bottom of the sheet.

Russia shoves the paper back and America rolls his eyes, the dull one moving in sync with its partner.

"(I was joking,)" America signs, shaking his head, "(Let me _______________ you.)"

Russia could only assume the unfamiliar sign meant 'heal.'

Russia looks at America with an unsure expression.

'I don't want him to hurt himself.'

'But I want to be able to hear again...'

'He says he'll be fine.'

'But he pushes himself too hard already. He might do it again.'

'But not being able to hear him is horrible.'

Russia shakes the thoughts away and takes the sheet, flipping it over to the blank side.

"Only if you're sure," he writes, a queasy feeling in his throat.

America smiles confidently. Russia watches him hold out his hands and leans forward a little, watching America's face carefully. America moves his hands to hover over Russia's ears.

The room takes on a light blue tinge. 

America flinches a little, but he doesn't seem to be in pain. 

Russia winces a little as the magic begins to help. His ears sting, and it feels like something in his head is being shaken around and pulled.

Russia cringes even harder and the ringing gets a little more intense before its volume suddenly drops and it turns into a low buzz. 

Russia's eyes go wide and America's hands retract. 

Russia meets America's eyes and America looks back, his eyes only half-open. 

America smiles and opens his mouth to speak. Russia listens to the slight buzz of his voice, his familiar tone, but can't make out what he's saying. 

Russia feels tears fill his eyes. 

'It's not hopeless.'

Russia rushes forward and clings to America. Russia hears himself laugh in relief.

It feels almost surreal. 

The ringing is still there and covering some noise, but it no longer drowns out everything around him.

'I can hear again.'

America laughs and Russia feels his heart swell at the noise. The sound. 

It doesn't sound as clear as it had, and he can only hear the louder parts, but he feels so elated for it. 

Russia hugs America as tight as he can and smiles.

Knocking rings out against the door. Russia turns toward it on instinct and feels a strange sort of happiness for recognizing the noise. 

America gets up and opens it. 

An annoyed Massachusetts stands outside the door with crossed arms and begins to sign quickly at America, a scowl on his face. America takes on a more bashful and sheepish look, running a hand through his hair before signing back. 

Russia stands up and walks up behind America, standing over his shoulder, watching in interest. 

Other than the self-explanatory pointing gestures and a few insults, he didn't understand much. 

Eventually, Massachusetts stomps off, still looking annoyed. America closes the door and his shoulders fall a little.

Russia taps on America's shoulder.

"(What was that about?)" Russia asks.

"(He's mad I was using my _______)"

"(What?)"

America's eyes light up a little with recognition and he smiles softly. 

"(M-A-G-I-C. That's the sign we made for it.)"

"(Magic. Magic?)" Russia asks, experimenting with his hands.

"(Yes, magic,)" America signs back, a huge grin on his face, "(How well can you hear? I asked you earlier and you didn't reply.)"

"(I hear you when you talk, but I can't understand what you're saying,)" Russia signs back, an excited smile on his face.

America's face lights up and he beams.

"(That's amazing!)"

"(Thank you.)"

"(You're welcome.)"

"(Why was M-A-S-S signing? Can't you hear?)" Russia asks, looking curiously at the door.

"(I told the kids to be quiet considering how you reacted earlier.)"

"(It hurt a lot,)" Russia replies, his motions exaggerated to prove his point.

America pauses for a moment before responding.

"(How are you now?)"

"(I'm okay.)"

America smiles softly before his expression turns contemplative.

"(Follow me,)" America signs before opening the door, peaking over his shoulder to make sure Russia is behind him.

Russia follows as they walk downstairs. 

Most of the sounds are muffled but Russia can hear the buzz of motion around him and some commotion in the kitchen. In fact, some of the southern states laugh loudly enough for it to filter through the white noise. Russia smiles.

Russia follows America to the screened-in back porch. Once outside, Russia looks around a little and sees Dixie sitting back in one of the lawn chairs, staring blankly at the sparse clouds that decorate the light blue sky.

Dixie looks over when the door closes and he tenses, his eyes going wide for a moment. Russia steps back and the brothers begin talking. Russia can't hear them well enough to understand the conversation, but their tones sound calm, so he decides not to intervene. 

Russia could, however, understand some of the absentminded signing the two do. Sure, Russia is used to seeing America, and sometimes Canada, do it when they are nervous, but it's strange to understand it.

Lots of apologies and nervous gestures.

'I wonder what they're talking about.'


	51. Comments and Concerns(UPDATED)

Hello!

So, I just want to say a sincere thank you to all of those who have interacted with my works and stories. I am so grateful for the feedback and to have people so interested in my wild stories.

Also, just a second announcement to go here- 

I have decided that the last chapter is a good place to end this book. I mean, I have to keep y'all interested in the next book somehow.

-Skulks

PS> Feel free to leave any overall criticisms or comments here.


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